Agents of Destiny
by Rogue Requiem
Summary: AU They had failed. New York had been destroyed. Hiro is determined to set things right by time traveling back a year to save the man who he believes is the cause for everything: Sylar. With the cheerleader by his side, how can they possibly fail again?
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hello there! Rogue Requiem is back with yet another story rattling around in my mind. I've had this idea since I watched season one of Heroes this past summer, and I cannot shake it. Plus, I've never seen a story quite like this in the archives, so I figured I'd give it a shot at writing it. Then again, I haven't looked extensively through it... So if there is a story like this already, then...my bad. Haha.**

**Now! Some story info:**

**Yes, this is an Alternate Universe fic. It is based on two episodes of season one: Five Years Gone and How to Stop an Exploding Man. Should you need a little refresher, Five Years Gone involves Hiro and Ando accidentally traveling five years into the future to find that Peter Petrelli blew up New York, though Sylar was widely blamed for it. Future-Hiro has been labeled a terrorist by Nathan Petrelli (who is really Sylar with a shapeshifting ability) and is being hunted by Matt Parkman, among others. Micah, DL, Ando, Isaac, and Nathan are dead. Niki/Jessica, Mohinder, Matt, Claire, and HRG are all alive. In the end, Future-Hiro reveals that the reason that they failed was because they didn't save the cheerleader from Sylar... And that idea is where this fic spawned from. Because, really, let's think about this: In that episode, Claire had obviously been saved because Sylar still didn't have her power. That's why he lured her to him as Nathan and killed her if I'm not mistaken. He was the reason why she was in hiding. So, clearly, there must have been some other reason for it, right? **

**Using How to Stop an Exploding Man, I have incorporated several elements about that episode as the background of this fic. Basically, this story starts right after Peter and Sylar confront each other. Hiro, sensing that one of them is going to explode, has gotten Claire to safety. Hiro is a bit mistaken about the future he has seen and the future that is going to come because of it. If you remember from the finale of season one, Peter, Sylar, HRG, Matt, Niki, DL, Micah, Molly, Hiro, Nathan, and Claire were all present at some point at Kirby Plaza. I have twisted this around a bit. Nathan does not come to the scene, for instance, to save Peter and thus New York, obviously. Since I've had the explosion take place, everyone besides Peter, Sylar, Claire, and Hiro have been killed out of those present at Kirby Plaza at the time. I have also had Ando be present and killed, too, instead of Hiro teleporting him back to Japan before the confrontation. So, yes, he's dead as well. And obviously, Hiro did not arrive and stab Sylar. The reason for all of this will be revealed as the story goes on.**

**I hope that made sense, but if it didn't, message me and I'll try and clear it up.**

**Also, this will be a ClaireXSylar fic eventually... Or maybe a ClaireXGabriel Gray fic; I haven't decided yet, and YES, there is a difference. And, yes, I understand perfectly that they are not split personalities of each other, so you don't have to worry about that. And, no, Hiro will not be shoved to the side once that relationship starts, when it starts. He has a big part to play in all this, too, which actually leads me to my next point: if there are any characters you wish to see in this story, either before the season one finale or after to the other seasons, please let me know, and I'll see what I can do. Only, keep in mind that most of them, like Matt or Peter, probably won't have any powers until later. After all, a year ago, none of them suspected that they were special; most of their powers didn't manifest until the solar eclipse. If it's someone like Angela, however, then of course she'll have her gift. She's had it for decades before the show even started after all.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes. I'm stopping at that before I imply something inappropriate and probably objective concerning Sylar and Mohinder, and no, it has nothing to do with them being a couple. **

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_Agents of Destiny_

_Prologue_

_"We all imagine ourselves the agents of our destiny, capable of determining our own fate. But have we truly any choice in when we rise? Or when we fall? Or does a force larger than ourselves bid us our direction? Is it evolution that takes us by the hand? Does science point our way? Or is it God who intervenes, keeping us safe?"-- Mohinder Suresh_

Hiro Nakamura was running like a man possessed. Sure, he could have teleported, but he had already gotten them far enough away from the disaster. The disaster they were supposed to stop. Instead, they failed. Now... Now, he just had to run. Run until he couldn't any more.

Why? Because Hiro Nakamura's soul was aching. Not just aching. Crying horrendously with no signs of stopping. His best friend in the world was dead: Ando Masahashi. He had let it happen, but there had been no choice. He could only save _one_ person, and if it wasn't her... Then, they would all die anyway, and nothing could be changed.

For that was the mantra he kept in his head and his heart, the mantra that started his journey in the first place. As long as he continued to think it, say it, live it... It would happen. It _had _to.

_Save the cheerleader, save the world._

And that was who he was running with, well, more like _dragging_ behind him now: the cheerleader, Claire Bennet. Strange. He had gone so long trying to save her, protect her, and this was the first time they'd ever met. Well... They still hadn't met yet. All he had had time for was to grab her arm and teleport away to safety before _it_ happened. Before New York became the next nuclear holocaust. What he couldn't say for certain was who had done it: Peter Petrelli or Sylar the boogieman? Both had the capability. Neither really looked like they had the _want. _But if his future self was to be believed, then it must have been Sylar. ...Right? He wasn't sure. He knew one thing, though. Sylar had been the catalyst for it all, the cause for _everything!_ Why couldn't he have killed him when he had the chance? _ ..._He imagined Claire must be very confused and scared right now.

That made two of them.

"H-hey!" he heard behind him. Claire. Trying to get his attention. She sounded like she was crying. All of that registered very fast but very numbly into his brain. That's when he realized he really should explain himself. He stopped abruptly and turned to face her, not relinquishing his grip on her hand.

"My name is Hiro Nakamura," he introduced hurriedly in slightly broken but understandable English. "I am here to save you. I am the one who told Peter Petrelli to save you earlier, too."

"O-okay?" He could tell that she didn't really understand, or maybe it was all just a little too much to handle right now. He could sympathize. Just as quickly as he had stopped, he turned back around and continued running again, grateful that Claire was quick to catch on this time. The last time he had darted off, she hadn't been expecting it, and the both of them suffered through an embarrassing whiplash effect that had almost sent them both to the ground. He was glad she was no longer trying to resist him and pull back _towards_ the disaster as well, screaming for Peter, for her father, for anybody at all.

He needed to get someplace quiet so he could speak plainly. He couldn't think through all the screaming and the sirens. For while he had teleported them away, they had not gone very far. They were currently fifty-three miles from the explosion at Kirby Plaza, just enough to escape the damage but not enough to escape the sight of it. He couldn't manage any farther if truth be told, for his mind wasn't thinking clearly at all.

A giant mushroom cloud of smoke, rubble, and whatever else was destroyed could still be seen spanning monstrously over the horizon behind them. As Hiro and Claire ran away from it, many others were stopping their cars and getting out to stare at the sight in horrifying disbelief. Even though a dark night sky was out, it was still impossible to miss it, the signs of destruction. Some dropped to their knees and sobbed. Cellphones were going off madly everywhere they looked, of people calling 911 (unnecessarily so as more and more ambulances, fire trucks, and cop cars were trying to head toward the sight by the minute) and their relatives to let them know that they were alright. Nearly every language of the world erupted from the mouths of the citizens around them. Screaming and crying could be heard and seen everywhere; it made Hiro sick the more he looked at it, the more he realized how utterly he had failed.

He pulled Claire as far away as he could from the sight, a hard task to accomplish since they had to run against the crowd that were marginally flocking towards the catastrophe. Misery loves company after all, and people's curiosity often catered to it, despite the horror it could sometimes contain.

Finally, he directed them towards a small back alley, turning the corner into it sharply and stopping before they descended in too far. Even at the end of the world, alleys like these were still immensely dangerous places, he knew. Fortunately, the explosion was now hidden from them both because one of New York's famous skyscrapers blocked the view, and the cries of the New Yorkers and tourists themselves were reduced to quieter echoes of pain and fear. It wasn't perfect, but it was good enough to work with.

He rested his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath, finally realizing how painful the stitch in his side was. Claire, though clearly being more athletic, wasn't fairing much better. Since the blonde was suffering mentally and emotionally right now, it only made sense that she do so physically, too. Eventually, though, Hiro got his breathing under enough control to be able to speak efficiently. Standing straight, he pushed his glasses back up his nose from where they'd slid down due to sweat and gravity. He stared at Claire with eyes of sadness but determination, slightly out-of-breath. The teen in turn stared back at him, waiting, her eyes mirroring his sadness but lacking all determination. In fact, she looked like she'd given up; she was so lost.

"My name is Hiro Nakamura," he said again.

"Ah, y-yeah, I got that."

"Oh, I see. _Gomen,_" he apologized at the repetition, slightly taken-aback and giving her a little bow. At her confused look at his last word, he winced. Right. Keep the Japanese to a minimum, if he could. He'd have to remember that. After all...there wasn't any Ando around to understand and humor him anymore.

Now, that thought _hurt_.

Pushing back the painful grip in his heart, he continued on, "I know you have a power. I have a power, too. I can bend time and space. I, or actually, my future self was the one who told Peter Petrelli to save you. I also traveled to the future and saw... I saw a nuclear explosion destroy New York. We, that is...Ando and I, traveled here to New York to save it. Only...we failed." He looked down, shamefaced before he was able to shove it aside and begin again.

"But, even though we have failed now, we can still save it. You and I. I know we can. We have both lost so much, we... We _have_ to."

He paused then. Yes, he had lost much here, but...he knew she lost more. He knew Peter Petrelli was her uncle, making Flying Man, Nathan Petrelli, her biological father. While he knew from the future that Peter would remain alive, he would still change into a cold man, and Flying Man had showed his true colors for being a bad person. He, of course, must have escaped the explosion... And if that other future was to be believed... He shuddered at that train of thought. Things would really begin to grow terrible if they stayed here.

And then of course, she had lost her real father, the one who'd raised her, in the blast if he'd gathered correctly that the man in the horn-rimmed glasses was her father.

There was also that police officer who looked strangely familiar and the blonde woman, her dark-skinned husband, and their little boy and the girl they had with them; none of them had gotten away in time, either, he didn't think. Nor did millions of others. This was so wrong! They _had_ to fix this! Claire was quick to voice the question of the hour, though.

"But... _How_ Hiro? How can we just undo something like this? It's not like we can have a do-over---"

"But we can!" Hiro interjected adamantly, taking Claire by the shoulders as he emphasized his point. "We can have a second chance! I am the master of time! I can go anywhere I wish, forward..._and_ back. That's what we'll do. We will go to the past and stop this from happening."

"Wasn't that what your future self was trying to do, though? 'Save the cheerleader, save the world,'" she shook her head sorrowfully, her voice low with hopelessness. "You, or he, or..._whatever_ thought that _that_ would fix everything, but it didn't. How will this be any different?"

"You have still been saved, Claire Bennet; therefore, there is still hope. I think that your destiny has you being a lot more active in saving the world than you have been. Maybe that was what went wrong this time. We saved _you_, yes, but we didn't give you much chance in helping us save the world, did we? _That_ is what will be different. You will be given a chance to shape the future and save us all.

"Listen," he stated uncertainly, suddenly afraid of what he was about to say, "I've seen _this_ future. I've seen what will happen now that New York has been destroyed. The world will become a very different place, full of fear and anger. They along with hate will rule the world and our hearts. Those of us who have been spared change for the worse. I... I become a-a terrorist o-or a...freedom fighter. Either way, I am hunted. Peter Petrelli...well...he will come to be very different, too. I never want to see that future again. You should never have to see it, either. That is why we will travel to the past--a year should be enough--to stop the Exploding Man."

He held out his hand to her then and waited politely but nervously for her to take it. In the end, it was her choice. He knew like a sixth sense that she was the key to changing everything, though it wasn't entirely clear to him yet. If she refused... If she didn't want to come... Well, needless to say, he would be close to useless on his own. He really didn't want to think about the outcome of that.

She seemed to hesitate for awhile, no doubt trying to think everything through and try to get some sort of semblance of what his plan was. With confusion and doubt still written all over her face, she cautiously took his hand.

"Alright," she spoke in a voice that was more sure than what he knew she felt, "I'll help you. Right now...I don't really have anything to lose, do I?"

Hiro gave her a kind, confident smile, if only to make her feel better. "Don't worry, Claire Bennet. Though a hero's journey is always laid out on a path covered with mist, as long as the hero continues striding down it, he will eventually come to its end and its final meaning."

She returned a smile, her ice-blue eyes regaining some light in them from her amusement. "What does that even mean?"

"It means that no matter what happens, we must never give up, even if we can't see what result will come of our actions! We must keep moving forward through all adversity and see our mission through until the very end."

"I see," she laughed shortly as they moved to stand beside each other, hands still clasped together. As Hiro was preparing to teleport a year into the past, Claire interrupted him briefly.

"But... I still don't understand _how_."

"Oh. We are going to save Mr. Sylar."

With the look of fear, disbelief, anger, and pure loathing she shot at him at that confession, it was a true wonder she didn't wrench her hand from his grasp and declare that she never wanted to have anything to do with him again. It truly must have been Fate at work here, Destiny's calling. For a moment after she gave him that _look_, she snapped her head forward again before nodding in stunned affirmation. With quick concentration and a sharp nod of his head, they vanished in thin air, Hiro wanting to get as quickly to the past as he possibly could.

The grip Claire now had on his hand was almost bone-crushing. She must really hate him right now for revealing that his big plan revolved around saving their worst enemy.

He didn't blame her. Not in the slightest. He knew for a fact he'd feel the same way if _he_ were the one Sylar had tried to hunt down and steal power from, after all.

Maybe Ando had been right... Destiny _should_ lose all their numbers.

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**A/N: So, how was it? Not too terrible I hope. Please let me know! Read and review!**


	2. Ch 1: What's in a Pun?

**A/N: As promised, here's the next chapter!**

**A huuuuuge thank you to Reviewers: dearjenna (my bessgewdfrann!), Hazgarn, goddess of all daleks, kerry452 (thank you for the review! I hope this chapter is as good as the last), Flyingporridge, ChamberlineofMusic, Fraya (thank you for reviewing! I hope you enjoy this chapter!), xReaderx, and Youko-Kuramas-Kitsune.**

**Thank you to those who have Favorited/Story Alerted: ArghZombies, Heroesnumber1fanalways, moon351, Youko-Kuramas-Kitsune, ChamberlineofMusic, dearjenna, goddess of all daleks, GuTTerArT, Hazgarn, Rhiannaaa, and xReaderx.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes in any way, shape, or form. Let me just say, though... Damn you, Samuel! Damn you! ...Ok... I'm done.**

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_Chapter 1: What's in a Pun?_

"_Yet still we struggle to make a difference, to change the world, to dream of hope; never knowing for certain whom we will meet along the way. Who among the world of strangers will hold our hand, touch our hearts, and share the pain of trying."--Mohinder Suresh_

The New York they found themselves in was very different from the one they had left. But it sure was stunning. And peaceful.

As soon as Hiro and Claire found their bearings from the teleportation, they quickly separated hands. Stepping out from the alleyway--instead of the dark, smoking, night sky of their present--they saw a bright, sunny, pale blue sky with hardly any clouds in sight. People around them walked with dignity and purpose, only using their cellphones to shout orders importantly into them and to catch up with old friends. The racket around them came not from screams and tears but from cars screeching by and drivers honking their horns in some strange, concrete symphony.

It was beautiful.

Hiro glanced at Claire somewhat worriedly. She wasn't saying anything. Was she mad at him? He didn't have time to find out for sure because without even taking a look at him, she began marching off down the street, her quick stride misleading the fact that she probably had no idea where she was going. Wasting no time, Hiro followed behind her.

Yes, she was definitely a little agitated at him, at least. She kept clenching and unclenching her hands before she moved them in front of herself to possibly fidget nervously. Then, she would begin the process all over again. Were she Ando, Hiro would have done stopped her and talked some sense into her by now.

But...

She wasn't Ando. He would have to remember that. She was a different person entirely. Actually...he couldn't even determine that much, either. The truth of the matter was, despite everything their little hero group had been through...none of them really knew each other. He and Claire couldn't even really be considered _friends,_ in fact.

With that knowledge, this was going to be a lot harder than he thought.

After crossing through several streets, evading cars and people to and fro, the two eventually came across a series of park benches. Hiro was greatly relieved when Claire finally stopped at one, quickly settling herself on it. He grew to be concerned, though, when she buried her head in her hands, her whole body leaning over her knees. He rushed to sit beside her.

"Ms. Claire Bennet? _Daijoubu?_ Are you alright?" He placed a comforting hand on her back.

"Canh meh clugn," came the quiet, muffled response from between her hands. Hiro stared at her, confused.

"Uh..._nani?_" he uttered before he lightly knocked himself on the side of the head. What had he told himself about avoiding using Japanese when he could? He knew how to say "what" in English for God's sake! It seemed she understood him well enough, though, for she raised her head from her hands, straightened her posture and repeated, "I said 'call me Claire.' No Miss or Bennet is necessary, Hiro. We're friends after all, right?"

"W-we...we are?" he stammered. In Japan, one had to be well-acquainted with another to be considered friends; he wasn't aware that things could be so much easier between people here in America. "But, we barely know anything about each other. Are you sure you want to call me your friend yet?"

Claire gave him a brief look of sympathy and understanding before it wiped itself away. "Well, sure. I mean, I may not know any specifics about you, nor you about me, but I still feel that I _know_ you. Or..at least I know your heart. You're the reason why Peter came and saved me from Sylar, like you said. And now, you saved me again, even though I probably would have survived the blast, anyway. I can't die, you know?

"And now, you chose me to help you save the world again. If that's not a basis for friendship, then I don't know what is." Hiro listened to her speak before he nodded his head firmly and sent her a broad smile.

"In that case, this day will mark the start of our friendship then, Claire-chan." He stuck his hand out for her to shake, knowing that that was how Westerners seemed to prefer to greet and acknowledge each other. He was surprised when she gave him a hug instead.

"Only guys who are friends shake hands, Hiro. If you're gonna be my friend, then you better expect some hugs from me," she stated simply. Hiro paused before laughing lightly and returning the gesture. When they broke apart, though, the blonde's small smile gave way to a look of grim seriousness.

"So, now that we're friends," she started somberly and not a little anxiously, "please tell me that you were just joking before and was not, I repeat, _not_ serious about saving Sylar. Please tell me that that was not your plan."

Hiro grimaced as he said slowly, "I'm sorry, Claire-chan, but that is exactly what we must do."

"But he's a monster!" she cried out angrily, her tone unyielding.

"No!" Hiro interjected just as passionately, "he isn't all that we think he is. He is just a man who has lost his way and is desperately trying to find it again. It's just...every time he tries to find redemption, there is always something or someone there to stop him from getting it. He really wants to chan--"

"You cannot be serious, Hiro! No! I will not believe this!" And Claire got up from the bench to continue walking onward again. Hiro followed her, only this time, he caught up to her and matched her pace with her's.

"I _am_ serious, cheerleader. If we are going to save the world, then you must accept this." Without breaking stride or even looking at him, Claire shook her head sharply, her long blonde locks brushing her shoulders and back almost violently, and began her rebuttal, "How are you so sure about this? Where is your proof that he wants to change?"

"Because," he moved in front of her path, effectively stopping her, and placed his hands on her shoulders again, "I have seen him try."

The two stared at each other long and hard, paying no mind to the people that had to dodge around them in order to get to where they were going. They received a lot of dirty looks and comments, but these were also ignored. Eventually, Claire began walking forward again but not before she directed him to walk beside her. He took this as a sign to explain himself.

"It all started when Ando and I tried to find Mr. Isaac Mendez. We came to his loft only to find him dead. Sylar was there, only he looked...different. Different than what he was supposed to, I think, if Kirby Plaza was any...indication. Claire-chan, he was so sad, so lost. Ando told me to kill him then, but I could not do it. I know, despite the hate and hurt that is in your eyes now, if you saw him like I did at that moment...you wouldn't have been able to, either. He is looking for a way out of this life he's gotten himself into, I know it. He just doesn't know how to accomplish it."

"So, what then?" she grounded out. "Are we going to be his little guardian angels or something? His wonderful, guiding conscience since, apparently, he was born without one?"

"That is not fair, Claire-chan," the black-haired time manipulator admonished. "We don't know what made him be the way he is. It could have been something really horrible."

"So, then...?"

"I'm not quite sure yet what we'll do. First, we need to find him."

"And then?"

"Everything will be made clear in time."

"Ugh! You Asians and your riddles! And your time puns don't help anything, either, Hiro!" Claire brought both hands up to massage her temples, feeling a headache coming on by the looks of her. Hiro merely smiled at her.

"...That's racist," he joked plainly. Claire let out a few light chuckles and shook her head. Hiro continued more seriously, "The hero's path is never the easy one."

"Your friend Ando must have been a saint to put up with you like he did," Claire remarked, unthinkingly. As pain flashed before Hiro's eyes and heart, she rushed to apologize, "Oh! Oh, Hiro, I'm sorry! I meant that to be funny, not to hurt you, I promise!"

"I know, Claire-chan, and thank you for trying to make me feel better," he smiled at her sadly. "Things will not be the same without Ando around. I say that I follow the hero's path, but really I am not so noble. If nothing else, I just want to change the future so that Ando will be alive again. I am very selfish..."

"No," Claire stated firmly, placing a hand on his arm for emphasis, "no, you're not, Hiro. You and Peter are the two most heroic people I know, and that's the truth. Sure, many of us with abilities have said that we're going to use them to change the world for the better, but really... How many of us have actually done that? Worser still, how many of us have strayed from that promise?"

"I have," Hiro stated sadly. "I was supposed to help Peter Petrelli in saving you, Claire-chan, but instead I time-traveled back to save someone else. I deviated from my mission, and I didn't even manage to save that person. It was wrong and selfish of me."

"It is not selfish to want to save the life of a person you care about," she stated forcefully, her eyes flashing with something like passion. Or was it experience?

"But a hero must know how to choose the lives of the many over the lives of the few, cheerleader."

Claire huffed lightly, shaking her head before leveling Hiro with a fond look. "I guess we'll just agree to disagree about this for now. Shouldn't we be trying to find _Sylar_ now?" She bite out his name like a curse.

"_Hai,_ we should. I remember where he lives. But, Claire-chan," he cautioned as he took her hand again, leading her into another alley so they could teleport without anyone noticing, "I don't believe in this time that he _is_ Mr. Sylar yet, and it is important that we never address him that way, either. In fact, we should probably not tell him anything about his future self unless we absolutely have to."

"Let me guess, because time is a dangerous business?"

"Exactly."

"So, what is he called now?"

"Gray." At her confused look, he continued, "When we followed him, it was to the address of a Mrs. Virginia Gray, his mother. She called him Gabriel."

At her silence, he glanced behind her, curious.

"What?"

Claire sighed before fixing him with a mock-serious look. "Nothing, just... Remember what I said about us being his guardian angels?"

"Yeah, so?"

"His name is Gabriel." All Hiro could do was stare at her blankly. "Gabriel, as in the Archangel, as in the Left Hand of God."

"Oh," Hiro smiled, looking forward again, "I see." Claire huffed behind him again.

"Damn puns are making me sick."

"Isn't that more of a coincidence?" Hiro thought aloud. Claire was practically stomping behind him now.

"It doesn't matter! It still makes me sick, him given a name of an angel only to run around, pointing his damn finger at people, and acting like the Devil's long-lost son!"

Hiro couldn't help it; he laughed. For some reason, the anger radiating from her struck something funny in him, so much so that he had to slow his walking a bit just to be able to handle it. She easily caught up with him, her anger dissipating with every step. Laughter is contagious... It wasn't long before she joined in, too.

Eventually, she calmed down enough to speak again. "Hiro? Where exactly are we going?"

"Mr. Sylar lives in Queens," he stated matter-of-factly, finally coming to a halt as he felt they were hidden far enough away to teleport freely.

"How do you know that? I was under the impression that next to nothing was known about this guy..."

"Uh," Hiro began awkwardly, "well, after he killed Mr. Isaac, Ando and I sort of...followed him. I told you this."

Claire nodded, saying slowly, "No, you said you followed him to his mother's...house..."

"_Hai_." Hiro raised both eyebrows in surprise as Claire started laughing again. "What?"

"Oh, I don't believe it! I just don't!" she snickered, her eyes sparkling with pleasure and even a little bit of grim satisfaction. "I just can't believe that the all-mighty, murderous, psychotic _Sylar_ lives with his mother!"

Even though he knew Claire wouldn't hear it over her loud laughter, Hiro muttered remorsefully, "Lived." His features clouded over with the memory. Sylar and his mother arguing. Him showing her his power. What should have been wonderful ended up terrifying her. Them struggling, Mrs. Gray trying to keep Sylar at bay with a pair of scissors while he tried to calm her down and then... Hiro roughly shook himself from that thought. It had been horrible enough to witness firsthand; there was no need to revisit it in memories. All the same...

It made Hiro all the more willing to help him escape his darkness.

The Asian adjusted the strap that was wrapped around his torso from his shoulder, feeling the sheath of his sword press into his back with a little more force as he did so. He was grateful to have not been caught by any policemen yet for possessing a weapon like this out in public; he knew eventually, though, that something would have to be done about it to hide it. He sure wasn't about to give it up to some technicality like that, even if it was the law. He was interrupted from this new dilemma by a soft snort of mirth coming from behind him.

"What is so funny now?" he remarked, amused.

"Oh, I'm just picturing you and Ando stalking the boogieman like two drunk ninjas on a mission. You're humming your own theme music and everything."

"We didn't do anything like that..." he mumbled, slightly mortified to feel his face heating up.

"I know you didn't, Hiro. That's why I was imagining it," she grinned before giving him a more appraising look. "Really, though, you two must have been like ninjas to be able to follow him without him knowing. He would have never led you to his ho--oh, excuse me, his _mother's_ home," she chuckled lightly, "in the first place if he knew you two were there; in fact, he probably would have tried to kill you."

"He did, actually. Try to kill us, I mean. In the house. And he almost caught us several times before that, but we were able to throw him off the scent, so to speak. Still," Hiro marveled to himself, looking up thoughtfully in remembrance, "there were a few very close calls."

A look of sadness filled his eyes, he knew. Because he was thinking of Ando, of the adventures they'd shared together. If nothing was changed, they would never have another one again. But, in the end, it was all his fault for dragging his friend into his affairs in the first place. If he had just left him in Japan, he would still be alive. He would be suffering away in a life of mediocrity in a little office cubical, sure, but it was better than being nowhere at all. How many times had the two of them come close to death before? Hiro inwardly shuddered as he remembered when Sylar had had Ando pinned against the wall with his telekinetic ability, half of his throat sliced open, ready to finish the job. He had wanted to make a game of it, too.

Hiro quickly derailed that thought as the hate began to build up within him for that man. It was already enough of a stroke against them that Claire loathed him; they would never be able to save him if they both let hatred cloud their judgments. One of them had to be the balancing point, the mediator, and he knew Claire would vehemently deny the position. That only left him to have to bear it.

So, he did.

Allowing those feelings to dissipate, Hiro looked at Claire again, giving her a satisfied look and a determined nod. She returned the gesture but not the look. Bowing his head, he began to concentrate on his powers and his desired location. Before he scrunched his face up, though, to activate the power, he couldn't help but grumble out, "We did _not _stalk him," before they were off again.

They separated once again as their surroundings came into focus. Before them was a door to an Apartment No. 16. Knowing it would be unwise to be caught lingering around the door by anyone, Hiro lead Claire around the building to a window looking into the apartment, the very same one he and Ando had peered through in what seemed like centuries ago. The funny thing about time was that, where they were now, such an occurrence hadn't happened yet.

They had to crouch down to avoid being seen by anybody as it was still broad daylight outside. White curtains framed the window on the inside, providing a limited vision into the apartment, though there was currently no movement to be found there.

Hiro and Claire remained perfectly silent, still running off the fear of being caught by someone. After waiting for close to fifteen minutes, though, with not so much as a soul entering the room before them, Claire grew to be impatient.

"Is there even anyone here, Hiro? We've been waiting forever."

"Well," he began sheepishly, "I suppose they could both be, uh, working now..."

"Working? Let's be realistic, then. If they _are_ at a job, then we can't just wait here for them all day! That's crazy!"

"It is crazy," he agreed, "but we have nothing else to do and nowhere else to go. So, we'll wait until something happens."

Hiro could feel Claire's stare as he forced his eyes to remained fixed on the area in front of them: the kitchen and part of the living room, it looked like. "It's funny. I don't know you _that_ well, Hiro, but I still know for a fact that you're serious about this." She sighed, then maneuvered her body so that she was laying down on her side under the windowsill and out of the sun. She brought one arm up to provide a resting place for her head.

"What are you doing, cheerleader?" Hiro asked, though it was perfectly obvious. He just couldn't believe she was doing it.

"Taking a nap. I'm tired, and it'll be better for us if I get some rest in. Let me sleep for a few hours, and if neither of them are back yet, then wake me up, and I'll stand watch. That way, you can get some sleep, too. You look like you need it."

Hiro was about to protest until he realized that what she'd said was true. They had both been up all day and all night running around New York and trying to stop the explosion. And he had now teleported them into a brand new day without any rest to speak of. He heaved a sigh of his own as he descended from his crouch into a sitting position. Removing the sword sheath from his back, he swung himself around so that his back was leaning against the wood under the windowsill, his legs stretched out in front of him. He would be able to hear it if anyone came into the house; there was no need for him to let his legs grow tired from staying in a crouch all day.

He fought to remain awake as time slipped by, an ironic thing since he was time's manipulator. He kept having to put himself into uncomfortable positions so that he wouldn't drift off, but it was getting harder to do as the the afternoon faded away.

Just as he was about to nod off, though, there were footsteps coming from the hallway, he guessed. Jolting awake, he realized that it was already close to evening and that he had completely missed the sound of a door opening and closing. Glancing at his watch, he gave a start when he realized they'd been waiting for five hours.

Time was such a funny thing.

"Claire-chan," Hiro whispered loudly as he shook her shoulder. "Claire-chan, wake up! They're back!"

The blonde gave a violent twitch before her eyes shot open. "Back?" she whispered groggily. She sat up slowly and rubbed her eyes of sleep while Hiro kept a covert watch through the window.

A small, skinny, harried-looking woman with short, brown hair pulled back into a ponytail entered the kitchen. Her movements were agitated and rushed as she swept about the room, removing pots and pans from their places while she whispered vehemently to herself words neither Hiro nor Claire could make out.

"That's Mrs. Virginia Gray," Hiro decided to affirm. Claire's only recognition was a distracted nod. Suddenly, both of them jumped at the sharp cry that was abruptly given off by Mrs. Gray.

"Gabriel! My special boy, you're not even listening to me!"

A much quieter, soft, and withdrawn voice floated in from the hallway.

"That's because you were talking to yourself, Mother."

"Are you contradicting your mother, Gabriel?" she snapped back, pausing at her dinner preparations.

"No, Mother," came the sighed response. And then the owner of the said subdued voice entered the room. Hiro made no motion but quickly grew alarmed at the loud gasp that came from his partner beside him.

It seemed almost loud enough to wake the dead. And definitely enough for the people in the apartment to take notice.

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**A/N: I am amazed at the notice this story is getting. Thank you all! **


	3. Ch 2: Awkward Stalkers

**A/N: Wow... Do you all realize how amazing you are? Thank you so much for all your responses! I am honored! I didn't think this story would take off this fast. Well, I hope you all enjoy this addition!**

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**Disclaimer: Don't own Heroes. But if I did... Well. Let's not go there, hm?**

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_Ch 2: Awkward Stalkers_

_"It's New York. Everyone runs into each other sooner or later."---Peter Petrelli_

Claire had been listening and watching the scene before her with a clouded sense of perception thanks to her still sleep-induced brain. Her mind gradually began to wake up as she and Hiro studied the interaction in front of them. It definitely grew alerted to what was around them when Mrs. Gray had shouted so suddenly.

The women herself didn't look very intimidating at first glace. In fact, she seemed as if she would collapse and break at any moment. When she spoke, however... She seemed to possess an iron will, an opinion that could never be usurped or disproved. In a lot of ways, this small woman before her reminded her a lot of her biological grandmother, Angela Petrelli: both were unchangingly set in their ways.

Yes, she could see this woman being Sylar's mother. Without really knowing or understanding why or how, it made sense. There was just one thing that bothered her; one thing that didn't add up.

The man she was talking to, whoever he was, could _not _under any circumstances _possibly_ be Sylar; there was just no way. He had _never_ been that soft spoken, that subservient. Not to anyone and not for anything. There was just no way.

Maybe that was why her reaction had been so violent, so uncontrollable when he had finally stepped into the kitchen and revealed himself. There obviously _was_ a way for this timid, resigned man to be one of the most frightening people she'd ever come across, and God just loved to remind her of how often He could prove her wrong.

In less than a second she took in his form: black hair styled in some ridiculous, flat, side-part that did nothing for him; thick, black glasses perched on his surprisingly clean-shaven face; a blue, knitted sweater vest with a white, long-sleeved shirt under it; a bluish-grey jacket hanging over one of his arms; and blue jeans that couldn't have been any less complimenting even if you had tried to get them on a Bearded Collie instead.

The next thing she knew, Hiro's hand covered her mouth, and he was dragging her down below the windowsill to crouch down, out-of-sight. They stared at each other wide-eyed, hardly daring to breathe. Her eyes sent him a look of apology at her reaction, but he just shook it away, already forgiving her. They waited as silently as possible while Mrs. Gray's voice drifted through the apartment.

"G-Gabriel? What was that?" She sounded close to panic.

"What was what, Mother?" His voice was guarded now but about what? Had he seen them? Did he know they were out there and was just playing dumb so as not to alert suspicion and to calm his mother?

Claire's heart pounded heavily in her ears. Hiro better be right about him not being Sylar yet, or else, they were both probably as good as dead if they were caught.

"That noise! Didn't you hear it? It was just outside the window! Look!" She was shrieking now, fear completely taking over her voice. It sounded as if she was close to hyperventilating or passing out, or both. With simultaneous jerks of shock, Hiro and Claire heard her frantic steps approaching the window in haste, fear from Mrs. Gray ripping past the walls of the house to settle firmly into their hearts. They had no choice.

Just as one of Mrs. Gray's hands appeared clutching the curtain, preparing to yank it back from the window to give her a clear view, and as Hiro was beginning to focus on teleporting them out and away, a miracle happened.

Gabriel appeared at his mother's side in an instant, gently grasping her hand that had a white-knuckled, fistful of curtain with his own and said soothingly to her, "Mom. Mom, calm down. It's okay. There is nothing there. Do you understand? Nothing."

As he spoke, Mrs. Gray's breathing began to calm down and recede into a more regular pattern. Claire and Hiro, however, still remained very tensed and ready to move should they need to in case the conversation just above them took a change for the worst.

"It's okay, Mom," he continued gently, yet to Claire's ears somewhat dully as if this kind of thing had happened before, "you can let go now. There isn't anything there."

After a few more minutes of her softer but still heavy breathing, her hand dropped from the curtains, allowing them to flutter back into place, and two pairs of footsteps receded further into the kitchen. A chair could be heard being pulled out, and as someone sat upon it, the other bustled around the kitchen for something. The finding of a kettle could be heard, along with the sound of pouring water into it. Someone was making tea, it sounded like.

Belatedly, Hiro removed his hand from Claire's mouth, and both heroes gradually relaxed again, letting out much, much quieter sighs of relief. Once again paying complete attention to the couple inside the apartment but not daring to lift their heads above the windowsill, the two listened to what was being said next.

"You haven't been taking your medications again, have you, Mother?"

There it was again, Claire mused to herself, that cold, distant term. _Mother_. She could never imagine calling her own mom that and finding herself being okay with it. Never. Claire scrunched her brows up in confusion, listening avidly. And what was this about medications?

"Don't you patronize your mother, Gabriel," declared Mrs. Gray agitatedly. "I'm far older than you and know perfectly well how to take care of myself."

"But," Gabriel seemed hesitant to voice his new reasoning but grew more determined as he spoke, "the doctors said you need them to combat your anxiety attacks and paranoia. You'll be able to function normally and much more peacefully if you'd just take them."

"Those lab coats don't know what they're talking about," Mrs. Gray snipped. "I am perfectly fine as is; I don't need those placebo pills."

A little sigh escaped the dark-haired man's lips, but it was interrupted as the kettle began to give off a shrill whistle. Footsteps could be heard moving quickly to the stove, and a second later, the cry of the kettle ceased as it was removed from the stovetop. In the next instant, there was a sound of glass tinkling down on wood as a liquid was poured into it. Footsteps moved again throughout the kitchen.

"I just worry about you, Mother; that's all. With Dad gone and everything---"

A snarl of disgust came from Mrs. Gray then. "Augh, your _father_. A _pitiful _excuse for a man; you must promise me that you will never be like him, Gabriel, so pathetic and...insignificant."

"Of---" Gabriel started saying, struggling to get the words out, "of course, Mother."

A slight pause reigned over the room as Mrs. Gray sipped her tea. The sound of her setting her glass down on the table and a chair being pushed back broke the silence. Claire snuck a peek upward to find Mrs. Gray embracing her son, a soft smile on her face though it was hard to discern with how tight her face always seemed to be, like the stress she felt from day to day was permanently etched into her skin.

"You're such a good boy, Gabriel. I couldn't have asked for a better son; if only you would live up to the potential I know you're capable of."

"I try, Mother," he said, voice laced with tension, "but you know someone has to look over Dad's shop---"

"Oh, the devil with your father's shop! It's a dead end that will lead you nowhere!" Mrs. Gray pulled back to level her son with a stern, reprimanding look. "You need to do yourself a favor and be rid of it. Go back to college; get your law degree, and so many roads will be open to you, my special boy."

"I will think about it." He sounded resigned but rehearsed as if all this had been said before between them. Claire and Hiro were rapidly alerted to the fact that they had discussed this before.

"You'll think about it? You'll _think_ about it!" Mrs. Gray ripped away from her son, causing Claire to quickly duck down as the woman started moving around the kitchen, banging pots and pans together again as she had done when the two had first entered. "That's what you are always saying, but nothing is changing!"

"It is a very important decision to make about my life. It requires a lot of time to be spent contemplating about, to see it from every angle."

"Well, don't waste too much time _thinking_ on it, or that's all you'll ever be doing! Now," she moved to address him more calmly, her tone becoming almost sickeningly sweet, "when will I see my _special_ boy again?"

"I'm not sure," Gabriel stated vaguely. "Things are becoming more hectic in the shop recently. I've received an influx of orders that will probably take up most of my time, but... I'll try and visit. When I can."

"Do you want to stay for dinner?"

"No, thank you, but I really should get going; there's an order that I really need to get started on. See you soon, Mother. I love you."

"Hmm," she supplied in a way that indicated she didn't entirely agree with something he'd just said but made no further comment. Claire and Hiro gathered enough courage to peek over the windowsill again to see her turn her back to him and begin attending to dinner. Gabriel stared at her for a long moment, indecisive, before quickly leaving the scene, his quick strides thumping through the apartment. And that's when Claire realized something important.

"He's leaving!"

"It seems that way," Hiro agreed, not comprehending. Though Claire couldn't blame him; she wasn't being very clear with her discovery. "So?"

"So? So, obviously, he doesn't live here, otherwise he wouldn't be leaving! I thought you said he lived with his mother!"

"No, I said he lived in Queens; you were the one who assumed he lived with his mother," Hiro stated before crawling out from under the window to stand on his feet. He winced as his knees popped from being in one position for too long. After stretching briefly, he motioned for Claire to follow him, grinning as he noticed Claire's put-out expression.

And Claire _was_ put-out. She thought she had finally, _finally_ had some sort of dirt on this damn man only for it to be too good to be true. She sighed. Looks like it was back to the drawing board, as her dad liked to say.

"It looks like he doesn't live here, either," Hiro whispered to her when she appeared behind him. He was peering surreptitiously around the corner of the apartment with focused eyes.

"We established that, I thought."

"_Iie_, I mean," Hiro murmured, distractedly, "he doesn't live that nearby, either. I was wrong again." He turned back around to stare determinedly at her as he nodded confidently and took her hand again. "Let's go! We will follow him!"

"But, Hiro---"

But she was cut off from saying anything else as Hiro pulled her forward much like he had when they were running through New York before. The difference this time was that they had to move much slower and more discreetly than that instance. The key was that they weren't detected by anyone before the time was right. They'd almost screwed up before. Claire grimaced as she thought of what a spectacle _that _would have made had Mrs. Gray or Gabriel actually caught them outside the window. She knew she had forever to live, but she didn't plan on spending _any_ of that time sitting in a prison somewhere, thank you very much. Especially if that meant her dad would be called in.... She groaned aloud at that.

She had to muffle a yelp as Hiro pinched her in the side.

"No noise," he warned, "Brain Man may hear." Claire glared at him but let it drop since she only received a smile in return.

They caught up to "Brain Man," as Hiro called him, as they reentered the busy streets of New York. They gathered that much because they had nearly run right into his back as Hiro bounded from the apartment complex into the streets unthinkingly. Panicking, Hiro scrunched up his face in concentration, and suddenly, Claire found Hiro and herself standing a few blocks down on the other side of the street. Luckily, Gabriel was still barely in sight through the nighttime shadows that had descended the city without them noticing and none the wiser, it seemed.

"Hiro!" Claire couldn't help but exclaim. "What the hell was that?"

_"Gomen, gomen!"_ Hiro stated in his native tongue before he shook his head, frustrated with himself, and spoke to her fully in English. "I am sorry! I was not thinking; I wanted to get outside, and then, there he was!"

Claire sighed. "Alright, alright, let's just...be more careful next time. It's a good thing it's night already, so if he had seen us, at least our faces wouldn't have been very clear. Or should I say, memorable?"

"Ah," Hiro said, noncommittally as they walked together back up the street, each keeping one eye on the Man-Who-Would-Be-Sylar and the other on the street before them so they didn't collide into anybody else. Just when they nearly caught up to him, they realized something else.

"Oh, crap, he's hailing a cab!" Claire remarked in dismay, her ice-blue eyes widening in disbelief. Hiro decided then to take the initiative.

"Taxi!" he yelled out grandly, shooting his hand up and out into the street as he'd seen done in countless American movies before. The blonde next to him was caught between laughter and astonishment that it had actually worked. Before they knew it, the trademark yellow car screeched to a halt in front of them, an older, tan-skinned man with a slightly unshaven face at the driver's seat.

Hiro allowed for Claire to climb in first just as Gabriel was getting into his own taxi and speeding off. Jumping in he exclaimed, "Follow that taxi!" when the driver asked them their destination. He only dallied to give the two an amused but tired look before pulling away to do as instructed. Hiro turned to Claire with a grin on his face.

"I always wanted to say that."

Claire chuckled once and shook her head. But amusement quickly gave way to apprehension.

"Um," she started worriedly in a quiet tone so that the driver wouldn't hear, "you wouldn't happen to have any money on you, do you? Because I don't have anything!"

"Uh," Hiro searched his pockets briefly, finding his wallet only to pull what were clearly Japanese bills from its fold. "Uh-oh?"

Claire nodded. "That's a _big_ uh-oh." Sitting back, she twisted her hands together agitatedly in her lap, thinking about what they could do. She stopped when Hiro placed a hand on top of her own.

"Don't worry, cheerleader. I'll think of something." After she nodded and gave him a small half-smile, he said, "Is he still in front of us?"

"Yeah. I memorized the license plate. He's about two cars ahead of us. I think."

The remainder of the drive kept Claire engaged in making sure that the cab in front of them was indeed the one they needed to follow, or that it was at least close by. She only had the headlights of the cars around them to keep the plate illuminated well, after all. Luckily, the driver they had seemed oddly attuned to what he was doing. Most were very careless from her experience. Looking up from the road to check out his ID and credentials that were taped on the front windshield, she gave a quick double-take, her heart thumping in her chest.

_Suresh? Chandra—Chandra Suresh! No! It can't be!_

But it was. She had stared at his picture from his book, _Activating Evolution_, so many times over the last several months---her time---to know exactly what he looked like. As she looked at him through the front and side mirrors, there was no denying that it was, in fact, him.

Claire was irrefutably torn now. Here, right in front of her driving a taxi cab of all things, was the man who had all the answers, about her, about what she was, about what was happening to all of them. Sure, the information supplied in the book was useful and wonderful to have, but it was like nothing compared to getting it from the source. A book was just so...informative, impersonal, uncaring. A human being, no, _the_ human being that it came from... If she could just talk to him and get some answers, she was sure it would make all the difference.

But she couldn't. The sad fact was she wasn't even sure if he had published his book yet; she had never looked at the date on it. It would be hard to explain how she knew about it, even if she _was_ with a time-traveler. Said time-traveler would also not want them to stop with the mission they were already undertaking, either. They had never talked about it, but Claire had a feeling that Hiro didn't even know who Chandra Suresh was, much less what his research means to their kind. No, he wouldn't want to stop for this, and she had no time to explain it to him. Besides...

How awkward and trashy would it look to just confront this man about herself and other people with special abilities and not even have a cab fare to pay him with?

_Maybe next time,_ Claire thought to herself determinedly as she turned her focus back to trailing Syl---no, _Gabriel's_ taxi. _No, definitely next time!_

Finally, it pulled over and stopped outside another apartment complex, one called 1146 Trenton Place. Chandra slowed down to drive the car up directly behind it, distractedly. Claire looked over to Hiro as she unbuckled her seat belt, her brows coming together again as she watched him write with some random pen on one of his Japanese bills. Once he finished he returned the pen back to the little cup holder in between the seats and placed the bill delicately on the seat in between them. Unbuckling his seat belt, he took her hand again and teleported them out before Chandra even got the car stopped.

They reappeared on the hidden far side of the building, right behind the corner. They both peeked around the corner to keep the front doors in sight. Gabriel exited his cab and entered as it skidded away.

_Poor Chandra, I'm sorry,_ Claire thought regretfully as she watched the clear, shocked stop the taxi made as the driver realized he no longer had any passengers. Nudging Hiro, she asked him, "What were you writing on there anyway?"

"I wrote that we were sorry and would pay him next time we saw him. Hopefully, we will."

_Yeah, hopefully so, _Claire agreed silently. "You did write him in English, right?"

"Uh, I---" Hiro cut himself off as he face-palmed his head and continued angrily in Japanese.

"...Guess that's a no, huh?" Hiro sighed.

"I really need to remember where I am."

As Chandra's taxi drove away, more---hopefully this time---paying customers in tow, Claire and Hiro snuck out from their hiding place. Hiro ran forward into the building, Claire having no choice but to follow. They had no other option but to hide behind a ridiculously over-decorated, fake plant in the main lobby area as they spotted Gabriel unlocking his apartment door just down one of the first floor corridors. Luckily, he didn't see them then, either.

_How oblivious can you get?_

Claire had no doubts now. This Gabriel Gray must have gone through one heck of a transformation to be who he was in the future. She was pretty confident that the both of them would have been seen, had their powers stolen, and killed by now if they were tracking Sylar. They weren't exactly being stealthy here...

_Well, at least we didn't have to play musical elevators... Or worse, take a guess at the stairs._

_"Yatta." _Claire heard Hiro whisper under his breath. Throwing him a questioning look, he reiterated, "We did it."

Claire only nodded once, looking away from him to see Gabriel's apartment door closing softly behind him. Stepping from around the plant and ignoring the disgusted, weirded-out looks from what she guessed was the landlord and staff of the apartment, she marched purposefully towards his room number.

She stopped in front of it, Hiro right beside her. So, this was it. Gabriel Gray aka Sylar aka the Brain Man lived at 1146 Trenton Place Apt 1B, Queens, NY 11011...

_Now what?_

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**A/N: Thank you all again for reviewing and reading my story! I am so stunned by the response, and I am eternally grateful. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I had when I wrote it.**


	4. Ch 3: Reluctant Trust

**A/N: Hello again with a new update. I hope this is reaching everyone at a good time in their lives. Thanksgiving is fast approaching, and to all my U.S. readers, I hope it's a happy one for you!**

**Thank you to Reviewers: Fraya (Yeah, Samuel's a villain you love to hate and hate to love, I agree. I'm glad you liked the addition of Chandra. I originally wanted him to appear later, but then I was struck with a better idea. I hope you enjoy this next chapter), twinkledee, smithsbabe65, kerry452 (You really think I write like Tim Kring!? Wow... Majorly humbled authoress right here. I hope I don't disappoint...), castiellovesme, Rissa (I love Hiro to bits. I can't help but make him be awesome. Please enjoy this chapter!), xReaderx, dragonwitch250, crunkn40, Youko-Kuramas-Kitsune, ChamberlinofMusic, GuessWho, and reneemm. **

**Thank you to those who Favorited/Story Alerted: Green5Wolf, GuessWho, Libby92, courtjester2, crunkn40, Daikazearashi, and reneemm. **

**All of you are wonderful!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes, and I have the insane wish that Sean Connery would be my best friend. **

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_Ch. 3: Reluctant Trust_

"_To survive in this world, we hold close to us those on whom we depend. We trust in them our hopes, our fears. But what happens when trust is lost? Where do we run when things we believe in vanish before our eyes? When all seems lost, the future unknowable, our very existence in peril... All we can do is run."---Mohinder Suresh_

Claire sighed loudly for what must have been the eighth time in the last five minutes. She sat unassumingly on the sidewalk steps residing outside some nameless apartment located two blocks down from their target. Hiro paced restlessly in front of her, somehow managing to stay out of the paths of the people still out and about on the sidewalk, muttering Japanese under his breath all the while. They were attracting a lot of weird stares from passersby, but Hiro didn't seem to notice. Claire noticed.

She just didn't care.

The cheerleader hid a yawn behind her hand again. It was really getting late, and the energy she had gained from her nap earlier had long since been spent. The only reason why she was still awake despite the comforting yet misleading darkness of the night was because she really didn't feel safe sleeping in front of all of New York and its strangers. She saw it as being ironic since her ability permitted that she could never truly be harmed. Not for long anyway.

She was also kept awake by her racing mind. They had a problem, and both of them knew it. For whatever reason, though...

They just couldn't see any solution.

Claire's body wracked with shivers, as it had been doing off and on for the last hour or so. New York in November was a formidable opponent, and here she was without a jacket. They really needed to think of something fast.

The two had only been able to stand outside Sy---_Gabriel's_ apartment for so long before they had both nearly been thrown out by the landlord for loitering and suspicious activity. It was a good thing they had left when they did, for Gabriel had been in the middle of opening his front door to see what all the noise was about just as they had hurried through the lobby and out the doors. But it had only been then that they realized...

They had nowhere to go.

The fact that they didn't so much as have two cents to rub together didn't exactly help the situation any, either.

Claire rubbed her hands together in futility, her breath visible as little puffs of white in front of her. Her ice-blue eyes followed Hiro all the while.

"So," she began again, talking for the sake of talking, "are you still sure that you don't know _anyone_ here who can help us out? You're the heir of a big shot CEO in Japan. I just can't believe that you don't have any contacts here in _New York_ of all places." But, again, she was only talking for the sake of having something to do. She already knew her answer as Hiro had already told her countless times already. She found herself amazed that he allowed himself the patience to answer her a final time.

"No, I already told you, cheerleader," the Japanese man said, still pacing and not taking his eyes from their burning stare focused on the sidewalk. "It's my father that has contacts, not me. Even if I did, I still could not take advantage of them. Back in Japan, I have still not discovered my power, and my father thinks that I'm a failure. As I have shown no signs thus far of being extraordinary, it will be more than difficult to explain to him how I can be in two places at once, as he would surely find out. I'm afraid that his opinion of me in general is not very high at the moment. He will not find it within himself to believe me. Not yet."

Hiro sighed loudly, an action that was mimicked more quietly by his blonde companion. He stopped pacing gradually, hands coming to rest on his hips before he turned to fix her with a look of his own.

"And what about you, cheerleader? You have no one?"

"Not here, not now," she stated sadly, eyes turned down from him. She didn't know he had moved from the sidewalk until she felt more than saw him sit beside her on the steps, the heat from his body making the cold a little more bearable for both of them.

"My family---my _adoptive_ family lives in Odessa, Texas right now, and that's a far cry from where we need to be. And don't even get me started about my own dad. He's more than busy working for the Company right now, I imagine. Could you imagine what would happen if I just suddenly showed up at the front door, fully aware of my powers and of everything he's been doing? It would be chaos, a disaster waiting to happen. Then there's the matter that the rest of my family knows nothing about this; _I_ don't even know that I'm about to become some fr—someone special." She shook her head in finality. "No, there's no way they can help us."

"And," Hiro began cautiously, "your biological family?"

"Doesn't even know that I'm still alive or even that I exist at all," Claire finished for him. "I can't even be sure of where Meredith is right now, but I can bet you that it's nowhere close by. Nathan thinks I'm dead, and Peter has no clue that I'm his niece. ...Hiro?"

"Yes?"

"Are we screwed right now?"

"_Hai,_ cheerleader. Very much so."

* * *

Eventually, they decided to wander around the streets of New York for awhile, hoping that something would spring to their minds as they walked.

The concrete jungle was intimidating at night in the sparser parts of the city. Its shadows sent out messages that were both dark and foreboding, yet tragically enticing. If Hiro hadn't been with her and their situation not have been so dire, Claire would have been tempted to wander into that forbidden territory, just to see if she could, just to see what she would find. Curiosity had always been one of the deepest urges in her nature, and even though she knew it wasn't always a good thing, she treasured it nonetheless. With her ability, could it really be so dangerous anymore?

Against her wishes, the memory of Brody assaulting her, killing her, and almost raping her flashed through her mind so fast that she immediately felt sick with it. Quickly, before it consumed her, she shoved it back down to the farthest, darkest corners of her mind and locked it away, where it belonged. Yes, it was a very good thing that Hiro was with her. It was true that she could survive anything, live through everything, but it also meant that she had to live with the memories that came with those experiences forever. And honestly...she could go forever and never have to experience a situation like Brody's ever again, and it would be just fine with her.

As if sensing her internal distress, Hiro walked more towards the lighter areas of the city to which Claire voiced no protest. Here, with all the flashing lights, the cars speeding past, and the energy of the crowds going to and fro, the city felt so..._alive._ And free. There was absolutely no trace of the fear and panic that would happen a year from now. These people had no idea what was in store for them.

Claire felt herself growing envious with a cruel hint of bitterness. No, none of them had any idea how special they were just for being normal, for being born into the lives they were.

Was life ever really fair for anyone, or is that and death the two things every human had in common with one another? Well, with her being the exception of the latter, of course.

The blonde shook herself from her thoughts, distractedly. These musings of hers weren't helping anyone, least of all herself. She felt mildly disgusted, a feeling that she was associating herself with more and more, ever since her abilities manifested. Would there ever be a time when she could let this go?

"Step right up, ladies and gentleman!" a loud, obnoxious, way-too-gleeful voice shouted out from a young man in front of them. Claire jumped in surprise, the sudden surge in volume grating on her ears. The man, not noticing or caring about anyone's discomfort, continued to shout out to the crowd passing by. "Get your Bush and Kerry condoms right here! C'mon, people, don't be shy! Bush and Kerry condoms: great for twelve-year-olds!"

Not even bothering to keep a snarl of disgust from escaping, Claire began to lead Hiro as far away from the perverse man and his sickening..._products_ as she could, taking pleasure in noticing that many others were doing the same or were just ignoring him completely. She soon realized, though, that they couldn't get far without running into others who were selling the same exact things, or trying to, anyway.

_This has to be a joke_, Claire tried to reason with herself, veering away from the next man as she did._ Either that, or this city is _far_ too_ _free for my liking!_

"Uh, Claire-chan?" Hiro stuttered behind her. In a change of pace, _she_ was now dragging _him_ along. "What was that about?"

"Oh, nothing, Hiro," she hedged, wanting to get what just happened as far away from her mind as she could.

"B---"

"No, trust me, you're better off not knowing whereas I will be scarred for life. Please, just... Don't think about it. Okay?"

"O-okay..."

She marched onward as fast as she could, quickly growing frustrated with all the crosswalks and traffic lights that hindered her process. The glare on her face was growing fiercer and fiercer the farther she traveled, the glowing lights all around giving her a sharp, glowering appearance that looked like she could kill anyone who so much as breathed the wrong way.

Suddenly, she wasn't feeling quite so tired and cold anymore. Suddenly, their whole situation didn't seem as humoring to her. Suddenly, she realized that it wasn't so cold anymore because most of her was starting to feel numbing effects all along her body, and she was quickly getting sick of it all! And then, quite suddenly, she stopped, eyes wide and widening further once Hiro plowed right into her back and nearly knocked her over onto the ground.

"Ah, ah, ah, ah! I'm sorry! So sorry! _Gomen nasai!_"

But Claire felt no anger whatsoever towards Hiro. In fact, she almost wanted to hug him, she was so overwhelmed with her revelation. She must have turned to him with a bizarre look on her face because Hiro chose that moment to step back cautiously by a few steps.

"Claire-chan?"

"Hiro," she started slowly, still piecing it all together herself in her mind, "I think I know where we can go."

He stared at her for a long moment, his glasses glinting strangely because of the surrounding lights before his round face lit up in happiness. "You do? Really?"

"Yeah," the cheerleader said, though the more she thought about it, the more she grew to be unsure. "At least, I _think_ I know a place we could go."

"Just say where, and I will get us there pronto!"

Hiro was so excited and relieved that Claire couldn't help but feel herself relax in the process. However, she was still far from reassured.

"Have you ever been to Manhattan?"

"Hai, Mr. Isaac lives there!"

Claire nodded. "How about Central Park?"

"Hmm, _iie_," Hiro murmured, "I have never been there, but I know it enough from pictures and movies. That's how I was able to teleport here in the first place. You want to go there?"

"Yeah, I think that's close enough."

"As you wish, then!" Hiro exclaimed, taking her arm gently and leading her into a shadowy corner of the street. Giving one last look around to see that they weren't noticed, Hiro said, "Beam us up, Scotty!" before they vanished without a trace.

After a brief whirl of wind, sound, and color that Claire couldn't keep her eyes open through if she tried, they reappeared in Central Park right on the Bethesda Terrace that overlooked a lake. From the faint light of the moon, Claire could make out a beautiful, carved, fountain sculpture of a woman with angel wings situated right in the middle of the black lake. The image comforted her like nothing else could in that moment, and Claire took it as a sign, a sign to proceed and that things would work out.

"Is this right?" questioned Hiro, looking around with wonder himself.

"Yeah, I think so." She took the time to gaze out at the statue again, marveling at its craftsmanship. She would really have to remember this place and look up the name of it later. To her, it was a work that deserved to be remembered for helping her as it did. She didn't ever want to leave this spot, as crazy as the thought was, but she was brought back to reality when the icy wind decided to beat against her mercilessly. Teeth chattering, she glanced over her shoulder at her black-haired friend and motioned him to follow her.

Claire admitted that she had always done horrible at math and science in school, but she did have a decent memory, especially when it came to where places where in relation to others. Therefore, she had a basic idea of where she was going, even though she had only been to this place a few times. She just prayed that when she got there that the reception would be just as warm as it had been initially towards both herself and to Hiro. Doubts and worries continued to creep back into her mind as they descended further and further into the dark of the streets, but she kept them at bay by thinking of the angel in the lake, warmth surrounding her as she did. This had to work; otherwise, their only option would be to try and sleep in the park and hope that neither of them got mugged or froze to death. But, even if it worked for one night....

Could they really last there an entire year?

Claire quickened her pace, a wave of determination hitting her. No, this had to work...

The walk there was silent, which was odd for her to experience since Hiro was still with her. He always seemed to have a story or fun fact for everything. It seemed even he was on pins and needles now, too.

Several blocks later, and they finally reached it. Claire would remember it anywhere even if her memory ever _had_ been faulty.

"Are you sure this is it, Claire-chan?" Hiro asked, a tinge of doubt hinted in his voice.

Claire didn't respond but strode towards the front door that now appeared to her to be more ominous than ever with its glass screen door and its intricate onyx iron designs. Despite the late night hour, she rang the doorbell two times before she lost her nerve, Hiro appearing anxiously beside her.

"It is a nice place," the Japanese man said awkwardly, trying to make light conversation as his black eyes studied the impressive home.

"You should see the inside," Claire replied before finishing mentally, _Hopefully, you'll get to._

It was at this moment that Claire thanked God that Hiro was not Matt Parkman. If Hiro possessed the ability to read even _half_ of the thoughts that had swept through her mind this night, he would be more than a little freaked out and agitated.

After waiting for what seemed like hours but was only a few seconds, a light from the room beyond the glass door turned on in full force, hurting Claire's eyes for a moment at its brightness. A woman could be seen beyond the door wearing an obsidian night robe, but that was all that was distinguishable through the door's designs. Claire watched the door open with trepidation though she kept all such expression from her face. It wouldn't do to show this woman any kind of weakness, she had learned that already.

The door opened, and there stood Angela Petrelli in all her glory. Before Claire could think of anything to say, having forgotten it all by just seeing her biological grandmother's face in the flesh, Angela beat her to it.

"Good evening, Claire," she said in a stately manner, not seeming at all surprised to find a relative at her door who she wasn't supposed to know yet. "It took longer for you to get here than I expected. What kept you?"

Claire and Hiro were both speechless for a moment. Claire was the first to recover.

"It's kind of a long story..."

"I'm sure it is," the dark-haired woman said, moving aside from the doorway to admit her guests. "And I can guess that it is one that can wait until morning; the both of you look as if you'll drop down dead at any moment."

Claire stepped into the Petrelli mansion somewhat hesitantly. She couldn't help but recall the last moments she'd had with her grandmother and belatedly wondered if this had been a good idea. Was it wise to trust a woman in the past who would betray you in the future?

_It's our only option now. There's no one else who'd believe us or even want to help us. Hopefully, we won't regret this._

She sighed pleasurably as the warmth of the mansion hit her as she stood in the foyer. She felt better already. The blonde turned, her blue eyes not so heavy with worry now, to find that Hiro had yet to step through the door. He seemed rooted to the spot by some invisible fear as if he wasn't entirely sure that he should be here or that he was even allowed to be here. In short, Hiro looked...awkward and out-of-place. It was a look that didn't suit him at all, not after how bold and confident he had been thus far. He was staring at Angela with a look of caution, nervousness and... Was that slight mistrust?

"Yes, you too, Mr. Nakamura," Angela said with a small smile, walking forward to place a guiding hand on his back to lead him into the house herself. "If my granddaughter brought you here, which I knew she would, then you are welcome as well."

Hiro looked even more confused than ever, throwing glances from Angela to Claire and back again before he settled his black gaze on his newfound friend and exclaimed, "_Nani?_"

* * *

**A/N: Well, there you are! I hope this chapter was acceptable for all of you. I realize it's not the most exciting one ever, but it was necessary to have. Hopefully, you found _something_ enjoyable about it.**

**About the Bush/Kerry condoms thing.... That's a true story for me when I visited New York this past April. Except it involved Obama, Hillary, and McCain condoms... Also great for twelve-year-olds... Yeah... I didn't really investigate too much farther than that, and I don't recommend anyone else doing so, either.**

**Also, the sculpture that is mentioned in this chapter is a real one. A Heroes plushie of your choice to who can guess what it's called and who made it!**


	5. Ch 4: Discussions of a Lying Nature

**A/N: Hello, everyone! Here I am with an update for you all! Are you guys as bummed about the Heroes break until January as I am? Yeah... So, hopefully, this chapter may cheer everyone up, at least a little bit. Hope you enjoy!**

**Special thank you to Reviewers: Hazgarn, alias093001, crunkn40, smithsbabe65, dragonwitch250, GuessWho, kerry542 (thank you for reviewing! I hope you love this chapter as much as the last!), Shining Through, Youko-Kuramas-Kitsune, castiellovesme, foxonstilts, and Rissa (Oh, wow! Glad to know the condom incident is not a singular case... Or is that really a good thing? Haha, it was hilarious at the time, but not enough to investigate further, am I right? Hope you enjoy this chapter, and Angela in it! Thanks for reviewing!).**

**Special thank you to those who Favorited/Story Alerted: alias093001, , Darkwill0w, foxonstilts, Major Ocelot, Mangoberri, EverlastingPurgatorio, Hechicera-23, Kye-key cat, and Myouu.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes. Otherwise, it would be playing on every channel at different hours in the day nonstop. Fans first, kids. ;)**

**Also... I have a poll up in my profile about my stories/writing ability. If you could please take the time to look over it, and tell me what most needs improvement, I would be ever so appreciative. :)**

* * *

_Ch. 4: Discussions of a Lying Nature_

"_How does it work? When someone tells a lie, does it tingle?_"_ – Sylar_

Claire sat beside Hiro on the loveseat located in Angela Petrelli's living room, a steaming cup of hot chocolate in her hands and a blanket wrapped comfortably around her legs. After hitting a second wave of energy, she no longer felt as tired as she had wandering the streets of New York, and at Hiro's insistence at an explanation, she had decided to forgo sleep until after the two discussed with Angela the reasons why they were here. The woman herself was seated across from them in a plush, high-backed chair, a lavish coffee table dividing them, not looking the least bit tired or that she minded being kept up at such a late hour. She merely sat tranquilly before them, patiently waiting for them to begin.

Claire wondered how much of it was an act and how much was really true. Beside her, Hiro had similar thoughts.

Minutes before, after Hiro had politely asked what was going on---in English this time---Claire drew her Asian friend aside as Angela gracefully offered to make the two a cup of cocoa. Hurriedly, the blonde informed Hiro that Angela Petrelli was her biological grandmother and that she had the ability to see the future through her dreams. Claire had figured that much out after talking with Peter about who was the source of his own dream visions, and she was pretty certain that Angela wasn't aware that she knew. The woman had seen them coming, obviously. The only question was, how much more about them and their mission was she aware of? Claire made it clear to Hiro that she wasn't to be trusted blindly---she was the reason Nathan had turned on them in the present, and she wanted the explosion in New York to happen in the first place---and to not say anything too important unless she brought it up first. That way, they wouldn't reveal anything to her that she probably shouldn't know.

Hiro only had a few minutes to take all of this in. During Claire's warning, he had felt a variety of things. Shock that Claire had brought them into the lion's den, literally; anger that Angela Petrelli was the one who had turned Flying Man into being a bad person after Hiro had developed such faith in him; and most powerful of all, there was a deep-rooted mixture of disbelief, outrage, and disgust that this woman not only desired for the explosion to happen, resulting in the deaths of all those people and the grimmest future he had ever seen, but she was also a main force driving it to happen. In short, Hiro wasn't entirely sure how to approach this situation, but he decided to allow Claire to take up the lead. After all, she had more experience dealing with the Petrelli mind than he did.

"So," Claire began awkwardly, unsure of how she would start. How was she going to fool Angela, one of the most skillful manipulators she knew, into believing that they weren't here for the reasons they really were? How were they going to avoid the subjects of Sylar and the explosion? Claire would admit to not being a very shrewd person; she couldn't really influence anyone if her life depended on it, but she sure could lie and play innocent. Maybe, with someone like Angela, that was really the best approach to take after all.

"How did you know we were coming? Is that your ability?" Claire settled on, satisfied. It was a decent question even if she already knew the answer, and Angela might let slip something that could be useful for them. It was _safe._ All the same, Angela met her eyes with a dark gaze, and Claire got the unnerving feeling that she knew she was both stalling and fishing for information.

"I never did tell you, I suppose." It wasn't a question, but it was said with a hint of suspicion. "I can see glimpses of the future through my dreams. I believe this particular dream first came to me around a week ago," the older woman began in a crisp voice. "I wasn't sure what to make of it at first as what it showed me wasn't particularly clear then, not that my dreams ever are, of course. This one just seemed more vague than usual. Then, four nights ago, it came to me again, clearer this time, and it gave me the identities of just who I was dreaming about. I confess that I was growing worried when days passed with no sign of either of you. I was afraid that something had gone wrong."

A tense silence descended upon the room as Angela finished speaking. Hiro sat quietly taking a sip of his hot chocolate, simply taking it all in while Claire tried to think of something else to say, another safe question but one that would bare more fruit. Her grandmother certainly knew how to answer a question in the most obscure way possible. Angela decided, then, to take the trouble out of her hands.

"You can stop trying to conceal your purpose for being in this time where you're not supposed to be, Claire," she said in a no-nonsense tone. "Oh, yes, I know you're not the Claire Bennet of this time. If you were, I'm sure Noah would be having something like a conniption right about now, and the Company would be after you as we speak."

"If that's true," Claire replied, dropping the act as well, "then what's stopping them from coming for me right now?"

"You're my granddaughter, Claire" stated the dark-haired woman as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "and no one else knows that you are here besides me. That will continue to be so until I have heard what you have to say and probably afterwards as well, don't worry. Besides," her eyes flicked over to fix on Hiro, studying him, "I'm certain that with Mr. Nakamura's ability at your disposal that we would never be able to catch you no matter how hard we tried. All the same, time is a delicate instrument, and I feel that the both of you are tampering with it more than enough without adding our involvement in it."

"So, I have your word, then, that the Company won't try to stop Hiro and I from completing what we came here to do?" the cheerleader demanded, giving Angela the hardest stare she could muster. Mrs. Petrelli turned her focus back on her granddaughter.

"As of right now, yes, you have my word. We will not interfere."

Claire had to stop herself from snorting aloud. It was easy enough to read between _those_ lines. By that, Angela had really meant, "As I don't entirely know what you mean to accomplish, no, we will not stop you. However, things are always subject to change..."

Meanwhile, Hiro's gaze kept flickering back and forth between the two women as if he were watching a tennis match, only to him it was much more intense. It wasn't yet time to interfere yet, but that was fine. Claire seemed to be doing alright on her own, anyway.

"But, honestly, Claire" Angela continued again, "even with time manipulation on your side, I really don't believe you can succeed. The explosion in New York will come to pass as it did in the future where you come from, I have foreseen it. Your arrival here hasn't changed that prediction."

"So, you _do_ know why we're here!" Claire declared forcefully.

"No, I wasn't entirely sure, but you just confirmed it for me. Thank you."

At that, Claire fumed silently. She had walked right into that one and beautifully so! Hell, she'd practically held up their intentions with a flashing neon sign that not even a blind man could miss.

_Ugh, stupid!_ she admonished herself. _Watch your mouth around her! Didn't I just tell that to Hiro five minutes ago? And there I went, bypassing my own advice without a thought about it! Ugh!_

"You're wrong," the teenager bit out determinedly, ignoring her last statement to return to the subject of the explosion. "We will stop the explosion somehow; we _have_ to. You may have seen the contrary outcome, but I bet you can only imagine what will happens _after_ the explosion. Hiro here _has_ seen it, and what he has described to me about it is horrible. The future isn't a pretty sight, and despite what you believe, you aren't saving the world at all. You're destroying it, just like all of us tried to tell you in my present, only you weren't willing to listen. Neither was Nathan, so don't worry; you weren't the only one..." she trailed off bitterly. Angela's betrayal had been easy enough to deal with, but the one that came from her father, her Superman at that, was still hard for her to swallow.

"Be that as it may," Angela replied, "it only means that I'll have to keep what you just said in mind. I'll make sure that we work that much harder to secure the future we want after the explosion happens."

"You don't get it, do you!" Claire snapped, slamming her drink down on the coffee table, being unconcerned with the hot liquid that splashed down on the table and her hand, burning it, though the pain quickly subsided. Hiro's flinch of surprise escaped her notice as well as his frantic movements to find something to clean the mess up with since she was too focused on glaring angrily at Angela to care about anything else. "Thousands---no! _Millions_ of people are going to die because of your actions! You knew that before, and still it doesn't even faze you, not even after I've told you that the future you want just _won't_ happen. You insist on trying to make it work anyway! Why? Please, just tell me why you still believe this is right!"

"It's true that millions of people will die, Claire, and I am remorseful for that, make no mistake," said Angela, unperturbed by her granddaughter's sudden outburst. "However, sacrifices must be made for the greater good; the Company has always known this. It is what we have been fighting for all this time. The fact is the world is a mess. It's sick, and it needs to be fixed. We decided that New York would be the best place to start, the most influential. Things will begin to happen for the better worldwide once the New York operation is concluded, though I confess that I will take some time for the world to get back on its feet. It will resolve its own pain eventually. And, really, Claire, the explosion will only take the lives of five million people, only .07 percent of the world's population. More lives than that have been lost through wars and disease since time immemorial. Unlike those affairs, what we're doing will serve for a higher purpose."

"And what exactly," Claire said slowly, disgust lining her voice, "gives you the right to play God like that?" _Only five million people, indeed._

"You're going to lecture me about 'playing God'?" quipped Angela, torn between amusement and irritation. "Isn't that what you and Hiro are trying to do at this very minute? You're trying to alter an event that has already come to pass. That's not exactly following the 'everything happens for a reason' standpoint that so many adhere to when God becomes involved."

At Angela's reasoning, Claire clenched her teeth furiously, stopping herself from saying anything more. She had lost that argument, she knew, but it didn't stop her from wanting to fight some more about it. After all, it didn't change the fact that what the Company was doing was wrong, and what she and Hiro were attempting to accomplish was right. But, right and wrong are imperfections in that they are perspectives. Angela, it seemed, had long since made up her mind about what she had considered was the line dividing good and evil. Nothing Claire could say would change that about her. All the same, no matter how hard she fought herself, she couldn't let one last comment slip past her lips.

"Even if it may be your own son who becomes the bomb?" she said quietly. It was a comment that seemed to come out of nowhere about a topic long since past, but it had always been floating in the back of Claire's mind somewhere. It was her last-ditch argument, her final effort to perhaps draw out a semblance of compassion from this harsh woman in front of her in the form of her son, Peter, but it seemed to be to no avail as grim recognition gleamed in the woman's dark eyes.

"_Especially_ if it's my own son."

And that was it.

Claire leaned back dejectedly into the loveseat, feeling emotionally spent. Hiro sent her a concerned look, but it was unreturned. Feeling like he should do something, Hiro decided to insert himself into the conversation.

"Mrs. Petrelli," he stated delicately, "while I still don't understand how or why you would allow this disaster to happen, I know from listening that there is no way to change your mind. Since you are so confident that the future cannot be changed, you won't really mind what we do to try and turn it around, right?"

"Well, that all depends, Mr. Nakamura. What exactly is it that you plan on doing to avert the explosion? Because I can tell you now that if it involves the two of you deliberately trying to sabotage the Company's plans, then I _will_ have to do something about it."

"But," sputtered Hiro, adjusting his glasses in a nervous action, "you said you would not interfere!"

"I told you, Hiro," came Claire's bland response from her reclined position on the loveseat, "you can't trust anything she says. Nothing can be taken at its face value, not with her."

"Claire---"

"Save it!" the blonde interrupted Angela snappishly. "You may be able to fool Nathan and Peter with your poisoned-honey words, but you can't pull that crap with me! You lost that shot with me in the future."

"Claire," Angela tried again, forcing herself to speak gently so that Claire's teenage anger wouldn't arise anymore than it already had, "whatever I said or did to you in the future, I'm sure that I am sorry for it, more than anything. I know that because that's how I'm feeling now. I may never have told you, but I do love you." Angela gave her a weak smile. "You're my granddaughter. How could I not? Giving you into Noah's care was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do in my many years of living, but it was necessary because I knew you would be safe with him. You would be able to have a normal life with him and his family, for a little while anyway. I realize that trust is a hard thing to get back once it has been lost so carelessly as I must have done, but I hope that I can make it up to you in time. Now, I know you need a place to stay while you are here, so I am offering my home to you whenever you and Mr. Nakamura need it. With my extension of hospitality, perhaps we can start our relationship over anew, if it is what you want, of course."

Ice-blue eyes met with black ones as the two studied each other. Thoughts were blurring rapidly through Claire's head. All of that sounded incredibly sincere, maybe even _too_ sincere... But, then again, maybe she was just looking for something to accuse Angela of. After all, it was such an easy thing to do, to assume the worst of her. However... Her offer of "hospitality," the very thing that she and Hiro had come here for seemed to be too readily given; they hadn't even had to bring it up to talk about. It had just been laid into their laps with no strings attached. No... That wasn't right. Nothing gets you nothing with Angela Petrelli. A price must be paid somewhere. She made that proposition so she could keep tabs on Hiro and her, to make sure they weren't going to dabble in something they shouldn't. Well, that was fine... She and Hiro would just have to be extra careful from now on, and they would need to try and find another place to stay as soon as they could.

Claire relaxed, presenting the perfect picture of unsuspecting trust as she gratefully accepted Angela's suggestion to stay here.

"But, I am serious, Claire," Angela warned, the lines on her face giving her a look of cold strength, completely unmovable in her insistence. "If either you or Mr. Nakamura do anything to interfere with our operations, I will be forced to take drastic measures against you. For your own sake, do not even attempt it."

The girl in question hesitated only a moment, but in that brief instant, she sent Hiro a significant look that she hoped was clear enough for him to catch and subtle enough that Angela would not.

"To be honest with you," the young woman began, looking down at her hands in her lap and noticing how cold they had gotten since she had slammed her warm cup down on the table and left it there, "we never planned to go against the Company...or you."

"Then, what is it you planned to do?"

_"Plan_, actually,_" _stated Claire blandly, looking Angela straight in the eyes before she turned her head to focus on a painting on the far wall. It wasn't one that she recognized, but the style was respectfully solid. An upcoming artist, perhaps? She turned her attention back to what she wanted to say to Angela. "Realistically, I've always known that stopping the explosion couldn't be done, not when it's someone's ability. After all, how can you stop an exploding man? We weren't able to answer that in my time, and I don't have an answer for you now, either. Instead, we're going to do everything possible to save as many as we can. We'll try to warn them, tell them to leave the city around the election day, and to pass the word along. Hopefully, someone will believe us and will get out while they have the chance."

Claire prayed that Hiro wasn't reacting _against _what she was saying, or it would give the lie away instantly. He wasn't saying anything, so that was a good start.

"Do you honestly expect something like that to work?" Angela inquired, disbelief coloring her tone. "There is no _hope_ about it, Claire. No one will believe you, and they'll probably look at you like you're some sort of terrorist. The only way that people will ever buy something like that is if you have proof and, dear, revealing to the general public that there are people with abilities living all around them _is_ going against the Com---"

"I know that, Angela," the blonde said tiredly, rising from her seat and catching the blanket before it fell to the floor. "We're not going to expose us if we can help it, and yeah, it's a long shot that _anyone_ in their right mind would listen to us, but... We have to try to change the future any way we can. Surely, you understand _that_ much?"

Angela looked as if she were about to protest but at the last moment, she let the subject drop. Coming to a standing position from her chair, Hiro following with her out of politeness, she asked if they were both finished with their drinks. After a silent nod from Claire and a nervous acquiesce from Hiro, who Claire was still avoiding eye contact with, Angela disposed of the cups in the kitchen before leading them upstairs and to their rooms. Walking down a long, white corridor that looked grayish-black in the shadows, they stopped towards the middle of the hallway, Claire's room being on the left, Hiro's directly across from hers on the right. After wishing each of them a crisp goodnight, Angela ushered the two of them inside each of their respective rooms, closing the door for each of them. Claire was just able to catch a frantic, expectant look from Hiro, which she nodded to before the door was shut firmly on her. Angela's soft footsteps receded down the hall, and then all was silent.

Claire looked around the spacious room. It would have impressed many people, as it certainly had the first time she had seen it when she had come to stay here briefly in her present. However, given the current circumstances, the lavishness of the Petrelli mansion was starting to lose its appeal to her. Now, it was starting to look more like a prettily made up prison than a house of comfort and luxery.

A tall window with its curtains slightly open, spilling moonlight into the room, was located directly opposite from the door. She made a mental note to close them completely before she went to sleep. Diagonal from the window on the left was a white wardrobe that upon further inspection housed a few sets of clothes that weren't in any way designed for her use. She left it alone. Across from that was a door that opened up into a walk-in closet. Again, these clothes were not meant for her. Another door beside the wardrobe led into a comfortably spacious bathroom, complete with a shower, bath, toilet, and a long countertop with a sink. Directly across from this, situated in the middle of the far-side wall was a spacious canopy bed that was filled with far too many decorative pillows and a light green bedspread. On the bed's right was a white dresser with a light green lamp that was currently turned off and a digital clock that read 12:42 a.m.

Claire approached the bed, intending to sit on it when she noticed that two sets of clothes were folded up for her on its surface. One bundle was a pair of blue jeans, a long-sleeved, midnight blue shirt, and a light jacket, silvery-gray in color, along with a new pair of underwear and other essentials. Beside those were a pair of pajamas comprised of a checkered pink pair of pants and a matching pink top, though this had short sleeves. Suddenly thankful of her grandmother's ability---she had thought of everything the girl would need for her to be comfortable, at least for one night---Claire took the pajamas into the bathroom to change as well as the toothbrush and toothpaste Angela had left for her, deciding to wait to take a shower until the morning. She was far too tired for one now. Once she was finished, she reentered the bedroom, and, after moving some of the pillows aside, Claire propped herself up in the bed---legs under the covers---and glanced at the clock again. It was now 12:50 in the morning. It wouldn't be long now.

She only had to wait a few more minutes before Hiro---still in his clothes from earlier---was suddenly sitting right in front of her, gesticulating wildly, almost shouting at her in Japanese, and what made the situation all the worse was the fact that he had just teleported himself _on her legs! _

"Hiro!" she hissed, "I love you and everything, but _move!_" And with a strength she didn't know she had, she wound up pushing Hiro off of her, watching with wide, comical eyes as he slipped off the edge of the bed to sprawl out into the floor. The vehement Japanese ended abruptly. Before long, though, his black tuff of hair and his eyes framed by his glasses peaked over the side of the bed, his forehead wrinkled in confusion.

"What did you do that for?" he muttered.

"Well, for one, you were cutting off my circulation," Claire said quietly, gesturing to her legs, "and for another you were about to wake the whole mansion up with all your shouting!"

"I have plenty of reason to shout, cheerleader!" Hiro said adamantly, though in a quieter voice than he had used before as he shot to his feet, readjusting his glasses. "You promised Dragon Lady that we wouldn't---_couldn't_---interfere with the explosion! How could you do that?"

"Oh, please, Hiro! I only told her that stuff to throw her off our trail for a bit. Besides, I doubt she even believed it, anyway. We're still doing what we came here to do; we just have to be careful about it," Claire said before she finished with a grumble, crossing her arms in front of her. "She'll probably have us followed while we stay here, or she'll try to, anyway."

"Oh," replied Hiro as he sat himself on the edge of her bed, head turned to face her, "well, that does make more sense..."

Claire watched as a relieved look passed across his face, and he visibly relaxed. She raised an eyebrow at him in question. "What, you mean, you actually believed me?"

"It was hard for me not to, Claire-chan," Hiro admitted, then broke out into a smile. "You were very convincing. It was hard to tell the difference between you two for a moment."

"Hmm, well, Angela did tell me once that I got my mouth from her..."

"So, we are definitely still going to save Sy---?"

"Ssh!" Claire intervened quickly, covering Hiro's mouth with her hand. "Don't say that name! Not here." At Hiro's questioning look, Claire removed her hand and explained, "As far as we know, Angela and the Company don't know about him yet. Technically, as it is now, we won't be 'interfering' with their business by trying to help him, so we need to keep quiet about him. The longer they remain oblivious towards him, the longer we'll be able to work our own influence over him and guide him in the right direction. It may sound crazy, but I have a feeling that he and the Company have more of a history together than him just ripping people's skulls open and them trying to hunt him down."

"You think they are related to each other?" Hiro asked, trying to understand.

"Something like that, yeah," affirmed Claire. "I just... Something tells me that the Company has been more involved with _him _in some way other than what my dad has ever let on."

"I understand," said Hiro, "so this time, I guess we'll just have to beat them to the prize, in a manner of speaking."

"Right," Claire smiled. Hiro gave her a similar look before he stood up and gave a brief yawn.

"Go to bed, Hiro. You haven't gotten any rest in forever, have you?"

"Nnh, not really, Claire-chan," Hiro mumbled tiredly, "but I have to tell you something first. I'm sorry I accused you earlier of going along with Mrs. Petrelli. I should have listened to you first before jumping to conclusions. I'm sorry if I offended you."

"Hiro, you were speaking so quickly that even if it had been in English, I'm sure I would have never caught any of it to actually be offended by," the girl said, her ice-blue eyes reassuring and a small smile on her lips. "You were reasonably upset. I mean, I took up the lead down there without giving you any kind of heads-up. It wasn't right to not include you in my decisions---this is _our_ mission, after all, and I'll try not to do it again."

"No, it's okay. You did what you had to do," said Hiro assuredly. "Dealing with family can be a steep hill to climb; I should know from my own father, and truthfully, I couldn't have handled Mrs. Petrelli as well as you just did. Her way of thinking troubles and confuses me. I just don't know how to approach her."

"Don't be hard on yourself about it, Hiro. Her mind's as twisted as they come. Any normal person would be stumped by it."

There was something, though, that was still bothering Hiro, but he decided to keep it to himself for now. He was unnerved by how _familiar_ Mrs. Petrelli was with his ability and himself. He reasoned that she could have foreseen what his ability was through her dreams, but his identity? Was that even possible? After all, she knew who Claire was instantly, but then again, they had a blood bond. It probably wasn't much of a stretch for her to recognize her own granddaughter, so what did that mean for him? They weren't related or associated in any way, unless... Was she possibly familiar with his family? Did they know each other personally? It wouldn't be the first thing his father had kept from him, he knew that much. Hiro was still trying to grasp the fact that his father was a master swordsman, despite how incredible it was. It was just something he would have to ask about when all of this was over.

A comfortable silence settled between them as each quietly thought along more similar wavelengths. The look that passed between them proved as much. For now, they would get some rest. Tomorrow would be a brand new day, one in which the search for Sylar would resume again. With any luck and a little teleportation, they would be able to get out from under Angela's thumb to get it done. Thinking of her grandmother, though, resurfaced a comment that Hiro had made in passing earlier.

"Dragon Lady?" Claire marveled incredulously, referring to Hiro's earlier nickname for Angela and trying not to grin. She had never heard anyone call Angela that before, and despite the fact that she hadn't known the woman long, she had a feeling that not many would ever dare to, either, to her face or otherwise.

"_Hai_, she is fierce and keen like a dragon and every bit as treacherous as one."

"Hmm... Good comparison, then."

"_Arigato_, but, uh, I don't want to upset you by calling your grandmother names... I was upset and not thinking at the ti---"

"Hiro, call her whatever you want. I'm sure it's not far from the truth."

Hiro gave a short laugh which Claire also shared in before the Japanese man wished her a goodnight and began to concentrate, about to teleport away again.

"Wait!" she stopped him before he left. "Could you do me a favor first?"

"_Hai_, what is it?"

She smiled sweetly at him. "Could you close the curtains over there? I forgot to do it, and I'm feeling too warm to get up right now."

Hiro desperately felt like falling over dramatically like all those characters did in the anime shows he loved to watch back home, but he restrained himself. Despite the plushness of the carpet, it didn't look like a comfortable thing to do. Instead, he sent her a mock-annoyed look, almost chastising her laziness to which her smile only widened at, before he crossed the length of the room, closed the window curtains, and teleported back to his own room. The curtains didn't even flutter at his sudden absence.

Smiling at his departure, Claire shifted down to snuggle farther under the covers, content to just _forget_, if only until the next morning. Then, the real work would begin.

* * *

Meanwhile, in a small apartment in Queens, New York, a man with dark hair styled in a simple side-part was tinkering away furiously at a small timepiece that was proving to be an unexpected challenge, but not one that he couldn't accomplish. Hours passed, but he noticed nothing except for the gears in the piece and the ticking in his own head. The finishing touches were finally completed as he inserted the last gear, forcing the watch to resume its primary function: to keep time. After screwing its silver covering back into place, the man held the timepiece reverently to his ear, listening.

_Tick... Tick... Tick..._

Not even a millisecond fast or behind. It was perfect.

Placing the watch carefully back down on the table in front of him, the man took off his highly-magnified working glasses to give his eyes a tired rub. He had been working on this one watch ever since he had come back from visiting his mother that evening, not even stopping for dinner. He was hoping he would be able to get a little ahead in his work, but that had not proven to be the case. His orders were still backed up, all his paperwork and finances were a mess that he didn't even know how or _when_ he'd be able to straighten out. Certainly nowhere in the near future, at any rate.

Sighing to himself, he looked down at the time displayed on the watch, shaking his head disbelievingly when he saw that it was well past three in the morning. He still had to go to work tomorrow, too. A groan of misery escaped his mouth just as his stomach let out its loudest growl that night. He was famished but it was far too late to fix himself anything, if there was even any food to fix in the first place. He wasn't sure for he hadn't been to the store in awhile. It would be better if he just went to bed and _tried_ to get some rest, although he knew that no matter what he did, he would be next to useless come tomorrow morning.

As he staggered into his room, collapsing into bed fully clothed, he couldn't help but wonder to himself.

How much longer could he live like this?

* * *

**A/N: And there you have it. I hope that was acceptable, especially for Angela's character. If she seemed a little passive, I apologize... To her defense, I'm sure she's got a lot on her mind lately for trying to make the world a better place. Haha. To those who have asked about Arthur Petrelli, yes, he is alive during this time, but he is not at home right now. Count on him making an appearance at some point, though, as well as Peter and Nathan. Gabriel, I felt, has been neglected lately, so I gave him that little cover at the end. I felt it appropriate. Count on him being focused on next chapter! Or rather, Claire and Hiro will be focused on him. More on that as it develops...**

**Until the next update! Merry Christmas and a super-special-awesome New Year, everyone!**


	6. Ch 5: Setbacks and Headways

**A/N: Thank you all for being so patient for this chapter. I realize the five month delay has been ridiculous, and I apologize, but this last semester of college kept me too busy to take some time and write for pleasure. I am deeply sorry, but it's the summer now, so I can get back to writing in a more timely manner. Honestly, I might have had this chapter out sooner, but there have been some personal stuff in my life that I've had to get through lately. My nana passed away this past March, and it's been really hard to cope with, especially with how unexpected it was. But, I'm back now with this new chapter, and I hope you will enjoy it.**

**Special thank you to Reviewers: Shining Through, alias093001, Flyingporridge, dragonwitch250, WickedPlumVintage, Major Ocelot, Youko-Kuramas-Kitsune, Neurotic-Isopod, Like A Clockwork Orange, ChamberlinofMusic, Munku-JGSPTV, Timberlou22, Arianna1281, shellybellypie, and IridiscentMischief.**

**Special thank you to Story Alerts/Favorites: Arianna1281, , CMW2, dragonwitch250, i1tabighug, lady of the west Kagome, Selador, suki itoko, The Outlander, tsukimonse, WickedPlumVintage, a7xluver91, Artemis Samhain, bakerroxy, chitana, DABIH, Emlou86, IridiscentMischief, jedishaggy, Kakihana Meytoko, Koanju, Lennatha, LittleBloodyJ, LunarEclipse, Munku-JGSPTV, musicae4840, mysticknightsofscottland, Neurotic-Isopod, ..SENSE, seethedawn, Snips95, tickles44, Uozumi, Woodrow Graham, and Kenobi-Rimmer. **

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Heroes. But, seriously... They need to hurry it up with Season Five. My patience only lasts so long...**

**_As of now, I wish to dedicate this story to the memory of my nana, Dollie Wolfe (1933-2010). She always loved Hiro whenever she sat down to watch this show with me, and I will finish this story for her if not for anyone else. RIP, Nana. I love you._**

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* * *

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_Ch. 5: Setbacks and Headways_

"_When we embrace what lies within, our potential knows no limit. The future is filled with promise. The present, rife with expectation. But when we deny our instinct, and struggle against our deepest urges... Uncertainty begins. Where does this path lead? When will the changes end? Is this transformation a gift... or a curse? And for those that fear what lies ahead... The most important question of all... Can we really change what we are?" – Mohinder Suresh_

Claire woke up later than she would have liked–a glaring 1:03 in the afternoon–but given how long ago it was since she'd last had a proper rest, it was not unexpected. Groggily, she rose out of bed to brush her teeth, getting rid of that foul morning breath, and to take a hot but quick shower.

Feeling that Hiro had probably waited on her long enough, Claire threw on the clothes Angela had provided for her and quickly blow-dried her hair. Running a hairbrush distractedly through the mane of golden curls, the cheerleader soon gave up on styling her hair. It would remain its wild, curly self regardless of what she did, anyway. Exiting the bathroom, she moved to slip on her shoes from the day before and headed cautiously downstairs, listening.

She instinctively knew that it wouldn't be smart for her to run into Peter or Nathan before the time was right, or at all if she could help it. However, as long as she stayed here at the Petrelli Mansion, "meeting" either of them grew as a possibility. It would be wise for her to remain wary.

Fortunately, this morning–afternoon, rather–only two voices floated into her ears, each speaking a language she couldn't begin to understand. Pushing open the kitchen door revealed the owners to be none other than her grandmother and her newfound friend, who were both busy discussing something in Japanese, a topic that seemed to be very important from the looks and tones they used with each other. Hiro was currently sitting at the kitchen table, the surface separating him from the elder woman as she moved freely about the kitchen.

As soon as they noticed Claire, the conversation ground to a halt, and Angela cleared her stern face by flashing a small smile at her granddaughter. Hiro, however, still looked a little suspicious and sullen, though he tried valiantly to hide it.

"So, she lives," Angela observed dryly. "Good afternoon, Claire. I was just wondering when you'd finally get up. I trust that means you slept well?"

"Fine, thanks," the girl in question answered shortly, noticing then just how much the drawl of her slightly Southern accent stood out.

To Hiro, Claire asked, "Have you been up long?"

_"Hai, _Claire-chan. Since around eight, I think._"_

"Eight!" Claire exclaimed disbelievingly, taking a seat next to Hiro at the table. "You're kidding! Why?"

Hiro shrugged. "Habit, I guess. That's actually pretty late for me. I'm used to having to get up at 5:30 to do morning exercises. It's been nice coming to America. It's been worth it if just to sleep in!" He laughed it off.

Claire suddenly started to feel extremely guilty. "Oh, Hiro, I'm sorry! You could have woken me up whenever you wanted. I wouldn't have minded."

She actually _would_ have minded, very much so, but given their peculiar situation, she was sure she would have gotten over it eventually. Hiro didn't need that information, though.

The Japanese man shook his head, smiling. "No, it's alright. You need as much sleep as you can get."

_For the mission_, was added silently in Claire's mind and she firmly agreed. Oh, yes, she would need the rest, for she had a inkling that things were going to get extremely complicated once Gabriel was finally thrown into the mix.

And speaking of Gabriel...

"So, Hiro, do you want to go explore more of the city today?" Claire asked casually, hoping Hiro would catch on to the hidden meaning behind it. It was Angela, however, who answered.

"Actually, Claire," the cunning woman began as she placed a plate full of triangularly-cut sandwiches in front of the two on the kitchen table, "I thought it would be wise if you and Mr. Nakamura went shopping with me today." At Claire's confused look, Angela added, "Unless you feel that you _can_ wander around in the same set of clothes for weeks at a time."

The cheerleader flushed a little, feeling sheepish, "Well, no–I mean, yeah, you're right. I guess getting some essentials would be the smart thing to do. "

Her ice-blue eyes flickered over to her black-haired companion, watching as he dully grabbed a sandwich, stared at it in curiosity, and nibbled on it. Catching his eye, Hiro made an annoyed but resigned face to her before he resumed eating.

Claire released a small, inaudible sigh of defeat as she followed Hiro's lead and plucked a peanut butter and jelly sandwich from the tray. Shopping for clothes really was the responsible, logical thing to do, she conceded while chewing slowly on her sandwich, not really tasting it but not taking it for granted, either. But, still... To her, it just seemed like a ploy, a trick that Angela was pulling on the both of them to stall them from their mission. If things like this kept getting in their way, then at this rate, they would never find Gabriel in time and stop him from becoming Sylar!

The blonde shook her head, denying her thoughts of failure. No, it was fine. Everything was going to be fine. This minor setback was nothing. Besides, they really did need more than two sets of clothes, and she was probably being overly suspicious of her grandmother, anyway. After all, like she just stated, Angela _was_ her grandmother. Despite how cunning and cold she was capable of being at times, Claire conceded that she truly cared deeply for her family in her own weird way. Claire knew from stories other kids had told her at school and her own minor experiences that it was a grandparent's natural-born right to spoil and dote upon their grandchildren. Perhaps on some instinctive, familial level, Angela was doing that for her, too, as a way to gain a connection with her and to maybe, possibly...apologize?

She honestly didn't know. It was too soon to tell at this point, so the cheerleader mentally shrugged and decided to just go with it.

All would be revealed in time.

* * *

"Thank you. Please come again," Gabriel managed to say through gritted teeth and a half-hearted smile that resembled more of a snarl as a particularly rude, impatient customer exited the shop, slamming the door behind him. He had been the second customer that day to leave with his timepiece being exactly as it was when he had first entered the shop, unsatisfied with the four-week wait before Gabriel would even be able to _look_ at the piece, never mind being able to start fixing it.

As soon as the man was out of sight, Gabriel let out his breath in a long, frustrated huff, uncharacteristically raking his hands through his immaculate hair while leaning on his elbows over the front counter. Head bowed, he distractedly fixed his glasses back into place, not removing his fingertips from the bridge of his glasses as he quickly calculated how the loss of his two sales would affect the shop's profit. While not life-threatening to the shop, the end result...wasn't satisfactory. And he could only assume that the situation would worsen if more customers sought business elsewhere. It made sense. After all, he would do the same thing if more efficient service was available.

A four-week delay... How did it come to this? Not even when he first struggled to take up the mantle of the shop his father abandoned all those years ago, it had never been this desperate. Then again, back then the experience of running a business, however small, by himself had been...exhilarating. Liberating. Even a little enjoyable if he was honest with himself. After all, he was out on his own, doing something he found pleasure in, something he was good at–restoring timepieces–with no one to tell him how to go about his life, what to strive towards, or what to eradicate from his life. Not within those walls. It had been a feeling of empowerment that had lasted for a while, but now...

Now, all he felt was resignation, a sort of tiredness derived from struggling too long against seemingly unbreakable chains with no merit to show for his efforts. He was inescapably tied down to this mediocre routine, this endless cycle that began and ended the same way every single day, seven days a week, three-hundred and sixty five days of the year. What was worse was that there appeared to be no way, no loophole with which to take advantage of and escape. He had no fire within him left, no passion, absolutely no interest whatsoever. He was trapped, suffocating within the unchanging walls that once spelled out freedom for him. He was in no state to appreciate the irony, nor did he know how to gain the courage to take a chance as he had before and try again with something new. He was starting to doubt whether he had been born with any courage at all.

Letting out an almost inaudible sigh, Gabriel straightened up with the intention to return to the back of the shop and continue working on a timepiece, the entire time thinking it was all for the sake of the shop's legacy. Before he had taken two steps, the outdated, cord phone on the front counter next to the register erupted into ringing. Gabriel stared at it for a moment, hoping it wouldn't be his mother on the other line. He knew that with the way the day had commenced combined with his sleep-deprived state that he was in no condition to talk with her. Against his wishes, he returned to the counter and picked the phone up just before it let out its third ring. Hesitating a moment before bringing it to his ear, he cleared his throat briefly before uttering softly, "Gray and Sons Watch Shop. Can I help you?"

"Yes, I'm looking for a Mr. Gabriel Gray." The male voice on the other line was both stern and commanding. Unknowingly, Gabriel reacted immediately to the voice, improving his posture as he quit slouching and became mort alert and focused as he answered.

"This is Gabriel speaking. What can I–" But he was quickly cut off by the no-nonsense tone on the other end of the line.

"Mr. Gray, this is Mr. Spencer Creedy from the Department of Finance. I'm calling to inform you that we have received notice that your bills are a month late. Are you aware of this?"

Gabriel knit his brows together in frustration. No, of course he wasn't _aware_ that his payments weren't made on time. Of course he didn't know how behind he'd gotten on sorting all of his finances out. He was the only one who ran this godforsaken shop, after all!

"Yes, sir, I am aware that I have gotten a bit...behind," he managed to say wearily, willing himself to remain calm. "Things have been rather hectic here lately. I work my shop alone, so I haven't been able to get around to–"

"Alone, you say?" Creedy's voice interrupted him once again. "Well, it seems that the root of your problem has been discovered, Mr. Gray. Have you thought about hiring any extra hands to help carry the load and give you more time for your financial affairs? It's just we never had this kind of problem with your father before, and we see no sense in breaking his trend of paying us promptly now..."

This comment was met with more teeth-gritting from the dark-haired man, but he kept himself from snapping into the phone. "Yes, I can see how you would draw that conclusion, and while I do agree that maybe having even one more person working here would prevent this from happening again, I prefer my solitude. Surely, you can understand that, Mr. Creedy? Besides, this is the first time I've ever been behind, and I still have plenty of time before the deadline, so I fail to see what the problem is."

_It will be the very last time I ever put off paying them, either, if this is what I have to look forward to_, he grumbled inwardly.

"Yes, well, it was merely a suggestion, Mr. Gray. We understand, certainly, that life can get in the way sometimes. This sort of thing is quite common, more common than you may realize." At this point, Mr. Creedy sounded almost pleasant, amused by Gabriel's strained responses. "This is simply what we call a...courtesy call. There have been many occurrences where we have been delayed in receiving bills from people who had already mailed them to us weeks before we called, with proof that they had done so. We merely wanted to see if yours was a similar case, but uh... Seeing as it isn't, please be aware that we will be calling again if another month goes by, and we do not receive your payment. Thank you for your time."

And without waiting for a response, the line cut off and the dial tone began shrilling noisily into the background. Irritated, Gabriel slammed the phone into its receiver and turned to walk into the rear of the shop. The chaos that greeted him had him stopping short in dismay. Extra watch parts were cast about everywhere, with papers scattered about to compliment them. The only clear space were certain sections of the floor and the work area containing his latest project–an Italian hunter-cased pocket watch–and his highly magnified working glasses. Who was he trying to fool? He couldn't work like this!

Maybe... Maybe that Creedy man was right. Maybe it was time to let other people inside this stagnant world of his, let them in so maybe, one day, he could get out.

Gabriel shook his head jerkily, turning away. What was he thinking? He couldn't seriously be considering that idea. It was preposterous. Gabriel Gray and _people_ didn't mix. It was an experiment that had tried and failed again and again. He wasn't meant to be a people person; there wasn't one charismatic bone in his body. He could barely tolerate the brief interactions with his customers. How could he expect himself to share a small, personal workspace with just one person let alone several of them?

No, it wasn't an option. It was best to put it out of his mind.

This method worked for a good portion of the morning as well as through lunch; it would have continued for the rest of the day had it not been for what occurred around one o'clock: the coming and losing of yet another customer, and not just any customer but one with a custom-made Rolex watch. Gabriel knew simply by looking at it that the restoration of this timepiece alone could have made up for the the two sales he had lost that morning, and it nearly killed him to inform the woman of the four-week delay and to watch her leave his store with an imperious air about her, never looking back. By this time, he couldn't stop his next actions if he wanted to. It was madness to do otherwise, he knew this.

So, despite everything he had ever clung to, everything he had based his life on, despite his miniscule pride, he did the only thing he knew would save his shop...and his sanity.

He taped a quickly-constructed, handmade"Now Hiring" sign in the window of his shop.

An hour passed. He must have interviewed and denied about seven people that had just walked in off the street by then, and he still couldn't grasp what he was doing. At the very least, he couldn't figure out what he was looking for in a co-worker, but none of them seemed at all right.

After dismissing the eighth person, he felt fatigue strike him again. He took a short trip to the bathroom to splash some cool water onto his face to shock his system into awareness, taking his glasses off before he did so. He still had some sense within him, after all...

The water certainly did the trick, but he knew it wouldn't last too long. He would have to find other ways to stay awake. That, or close the shop early, which he loathed to do. Wiping his face dry with a small hand towel, Gabriel pulled the towel away from his face only to pause at the visage that greeted him in the mirror.

He always thought he looked strange without his glasses on, almost like a different person. Without them, he felt exposed and vulnerable, and he usually looked it, too. But...not this time. The face that currently looked at him in the mirror was one he had never seen before. His eyes were bloodshot, tired but alert. Small shadows surrounded his eyes, betraying to those who looked closely his lack of sleep. Because he had been too tired and uncaring to shave this morning, his appearance was altogether rugged with a five o'clock shadow already appearing on his face. He let out a snort at that. His so-called five o'clock shadow never knew when to show up at the time it was known for. And, then there was his hair. He had continued to run his hand through it in anxiety so much today that it no longer had a distinct part. In fact, it was swept back to stick out in all directions. Most people would find this look as an improvement, even finding it to be attractive, but all Gabriel saw was disorder and unappealing scruffiness. He looked like a slob. Without another glance, he left the small bathroom, shutting off the light and closing the door behind him.

That wasn't him. That couldn't be him. The person in that reflection was too...untamed, too daring to be even a relative semblance to him. He was just...just Gabriel. Insignificant Gabriel Gray. He knew enough by now to realize what hand fate had dealt him: a life of someone whose life meant absolutely nothing at all.

* * *

As expected, Hiro became bored with shopping after the third designer shop Angela showed them to. He tried to pretend that he was enjoying himself, but Claire could read through him. Clothes shopping didn't exactly scream out Hiro Nakamura's version of "fun". This was especially after Angela assured him that his father, Kaito, would be getting the bill later. Hiro turned a few shades paler at that comment before he tried to take his mind off of things by commenting on the outfits Claire was getting for herself.

Despite everything, Claire was enjoying the experience immensely, and for that she also felt guilty for doing so. In her mind, she knew that they had much better things to be doing. That had been said time and time again. With every blouse, dress, and pair of pants she pulled off the clothes rack, Claire had one name floating through her mind. _Gabriel... Gabriel... _Each thought was more pressing than the last, which in turn pushed her to rush through the later part of her shopping. Hiro had already found everything he needed, after all.

Still... She was shopping in New York of all places with her grandmother and a friend! Since when had anything like this ever happened to her? She was a country bumpkin for a reason, and while she wasn't looking to buy anything too flashy or glamorous, she still saw this as a way to find some better clothes for herself. Even though she had been a cheerleader, Claire wasn't big on fashion. She didn't follow it obsessively like Jackie always had, but she paid attention from time to time. Having Angela with her to help her and Hiro there for his own endearing kind of encouragement was almost a surreal experience to her, one that she intended to treasure and relish while it lasted. She knew enough to know that this couldn't last forever, and it was unforeseeable if it could ever happen again.

Besides, it didn't help that Angela kept pointing her to cute outfits that she refused to disclose what the price for them was. In fact, Claire was lucky if she was even able to find price tags on some of the clothes she picked out, but she had enough sense not to get too attached to those. Just because her grandmother was rich didn't mean that Claire had the right to exploit her. It wasn't like Angela wouldn't find a way for Claire to pay her back for her "generosity" later on, anyway.

It was around three when Angela finally called the shopping trip to an end. As Angela slid into her limo, the clothes stowed safely into the trunk, she turned them loose into the city.

"I know you will look after each other, and with your abilities, it would be pointless for me to attempt to monitor you. All I ask is that you be careful and be back for dinner by seven at the latest," she stated, fixing them both with a stern gaze as if daring them to contradict her.

"What if we _are_ late?" Claire cautioned to ask, genuinely curious.

"Well, then, I hope, if such an event occurs, that you are both in serious trouble, because I will be calling the Company to track you both down if you are even a minute late. That means, Claire, that your father would be called, too. He would come here for you, so for your sake, I would advise you not to force me to choose that route until it is damn well worth it. Understood?"

At Claire and Hiro's choruses of affirmation, Angela nodded briskly before letting a rare smile grace her lips. "In the meantime, I wish you both to enjoy this city for what it is. It's truly a different world from where you both have come from." From then on, her tinted window rolled up as she instructed her driver to take her home, leaving Hiro and Claire to watch as the limo vanished and blended in with the influx of traffic.

Claire looked back at Hiro to see his face beaming with excitement. He had certainly gotten his energy back.

"Next stop, cheerleader? Queens, _hai_?" he questioned, bouncing on the balls of his feet a few times in restlessness.

"Next stop, Queens," Claire confirmed, nodding as her own face broke out into a smile. Had she ever been that hyper before? She wasn't sure, but she definitely knew that if she had, it was something that hadn't happened in a long time. Not since her powers manifested, certainly. Claire pushed away those thoughts. They always took her down a dark train of thought, and it was a road she didn't need to follow now.

She and Hiro walked until they found a secluded place to teleport, and before she knew it, they were away, flying through time, space, and matter again. They appeared outside of the apartment complex they'd originally followed Gabriel to. Claire almost laughed when she remembered how they thought that _that_ had been such a huge accomplishment. Now, the real challenge was finding him where he worked. That was where he would be all day, not in his apartment!

"Hmm," Claire began.

"Uh..." Hiro answered.

"I say we go, _that way!_" they said in unison, not noticing the other had started to say something until they were both looking at one another, each pointing in the opposite direction. This earned themselves a brief laugh as the realized how silly they must have looked.

"Okay, okay," Claire chuckled, "it's obvious that we have no idea what we're doing, so why not decide this by chance?"

"Why by chance?" Hiro asked, confused. American customs were so weird to him sometimes.

"Oh, it's just so we can't blame each other for choosing the wrong direction to search for Gabriel later on if we get lost," the blonde winked, searching her pockets for a coin only to discover she had no change on her whatsoever. After questioning Hiro, he was in a similar state. Fortunately, he found them both an alternative.

"Oh! I know! Let's play _jakenpon!_"

"Jaken–what?" Claire furrowed her brow in confusion.

"_Jakenpon! _You know! This," Hiro put out a fist, "beats this." He changed his hand into a sideways peace sign. "And that beats this." Next, his hand lay sideways with all of his fingers extended. As Claire watched the movements, she quickly caught on.

"Oh! You mean, rock-paper-scissors!"

_"Hai, hai!"_

So, they bet that if Hiro won two out of three games of rock-paper-scissors, or _jakenpon_, they would go where he pointed. But, if Claire won, they would go where she had directed. There really wasn't much of a contest, though. Hiro destoyed her.

"Woohoo! _Yatta!_ Ok, let's go!"

Claire allowed herself to be dragged off behind him again, grinning slightly all the while. But thirty minutes passed, then an hour, but they hadn't found any trace of Gabriel anywhere. After thirty more minutes, Claire was beginning to grow irksome.

"I really can't believe how difficult it is to find him!" she exclaimed, her icy-blue eyes scanning the crowd and the stores all the while. "Why is it that we just happen to run into each other at random here, yet when we actually bother to try and find one specific person, we suddenly have a better chance at finding Osama Bin Laden?"

"I think this is what people like to call Murphy's Law, Claire-chan," Hiro sighed tiredly. "Anything that can go wrong..."

"..._Will_ go wrong. Yeah..." she finished before suggesting, "Hey, let's take a break, huh? Want an ice cream or something? We can get one at that stand over there." She gestured to a small one-stand ice cream vendor perched on the edge of the sidewalk just up ahead.

"That sounds nice, Claire-chan, but I still don't have any American money."

"Don't worry about it, Hiro. I got it."

"But–"

"Shush! I'm buying and that's final!"

"...Fine."

Fortune found them sitting on a black, metal bench outside of some sort of a watch store, Claire finishing up an ice cream sandwich and Hiro munching on a cookies and cream ice cream cone. As Claire was getting up to throw the wrapper for her ice cream sandwich away, she took a distracted glance into the watch store in vague curiosity. What she saw made her freeze suddenly and perform a double-take. There! He was there! Right under their noses! If they hadn't stopped to get this ice cream, they would have walked right past him!

_Gray & Son's Watch Shop. Unbelievable!_ Claire cried out internally as she walked back to Hiro's side at the bench, but she refused to sit down again, choosing instead to stare intently into the store window. He was talking to someone from what she could tell. Some elaborately dressed-up woman... Why, though?

"Claire-chan," Hiro managed around a mouthful of ice cream before he swallowed it. "Are you...?"

"We found him," Claire deadpanned, unsure whether to feel grateful or terrified that they had finally made some headway. Despite her previous joking about him, she couldn't shake the memories she had of what he would twist into in the future. "Hiro, we found Gabriel."

_"Nani?!" _He twisted around to see what she was staring at, nearly losing his ice cream in the process. Before they made another move, though, the woman Claire had seen Gabriel talking to stormed out of the shop.

"Why, that rude, antisocial freak!" she exclaimed, not even waiting until the door had shut behind her before trashing the said freak who owned it, her brown, curly hair bouncing around her shoulders with her equally brown eyes flashing. "I deserve that job just as much as anybody else does! Bastard!"

Just as she was turning to power walk away, she noticed Claire and Hiro watching her from the bench. She fixed her glare on them in a heartbeat. "What d'you think you're looking at, Barbie? And how 'bout _you_, Jackie Chan? You think either of you brats can get through that idiot in there for that job, then fine! Be my guest!"

And without another word, she stomped away, leaving a stunned Claire and Hiro behind her.

Claire recovered first, looking at Hiro with the raise of a blonde eyebrow. "Job?"

Hiro had a question of his own.

"Jackie Chan?"

"Well... You _do _perform your own stunts." A beat passed before their dam of laughter broke again.

"But, seriously," the cheerleader recovered, "what is this about a job?"

Hiro gazed into the shop window and noticed the "Now Hiring" sign. "I think it's just as it means, Claire-chan." He pointed to said sign before hissing out in a whisper. "Brain man is _hiring!_"

"Yes, but...why?" Claire wasn't sure why the thought of Gabriel having a co-worker bothered her so much. In her memories, whenever she thought of Sylar, it was always of him alone. He had no companions, no friends, no...anything. There was only him. She couldn't even imagine him with parents or even being in school. It was like he just suddenly existed from nowhere, and then there he was. A pre-serial killer having co-workers was just...strange.

But, Claire was broken out of her reverie. Hiro had been having thoughts of his own.

"Oh! Oh! Idea!"

_Oh, no... Don't tell me he's thinking... _

But it was too late. Hiro had already dashed inside the shop, ice cream in hand, while Claire could only shout for him to come back.

"What are you doing?" she cried. "We don't have a plan or anything--!"

But, the shop door closed with an innocent _ding!_ and drowned out all of Claire's pleadings for Hiro to get his insane Asian behind to come back outside, leaving the now nervous, slightly shaking teenager to make a desperate choice. Should she wait out here for information or follow her friend into hell? Neither choice really appealed to her.

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**A/N: Thank you again for waiting for this! Hope you liked!**


	7. Ch 6: Not Your Conventional Interview

**A/N: Hello, everyone! I'm here with another chapter for you! Hope you enjoy!**

**Special thank you to Reviewers: alias093001, johncorn, Bubblefairey, dragonwitch250, Crunkn40 (Thanks for the sympathies and your review. I hope love who lands the job this chapter!), shellybellypie, and Youko-Kuramas-Kitsune.**

**Special thank you to those who Favorited/Story Alerted: Neuronerd, SriHellgirl25, TheTilly, belladonna05, johncorn, kmf671, and toolazytothinkoforiginalname. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes or Walmart. There is evil there that does not sleep.**

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_Chapter 6: Not Your Conventional Interview_

"_Sooner you learn it, sooner we get that collar off your neck. People suck, friend. Every last one of them. Never forget that. Oh, right. There's a girl." – Claude Rains _

"_She's not like the rest of them." – Peter Petrelli_

"_Everyone's like the rest. That's why they're the rest." – Claude Rains_

Claire sat cross-legged on her bed at the Petrelli mansion, head in her hands and looking as dejected and unbelieving as she had ever been.

"I can't believe that just happened," she remarked for the seventh time since coming home from Gabriel's watch shop. Shouts of victory and laughter rang out all around her as Hiro ran frantically around her room, pumping his fists in triumph and waving peace signs everywhere. It was a display that would make any fanboy proud, and it would have made Claire laugh at any other occasion except this time it was entirely at her expense.

"No, seriously, Hiro, listen to me!" Claire declared slightly more frantically, gripping her blonde hair harder than usual. "I can't _believe_ that just happened!"

Hiro laughed, "You keep saying that, Claire-chan, but it's time you face the music!"

"Oh," Claire moaned, feeling even worse with herself after that, "I just don't believe it." She really hoped Angela didn't hear all this racket from downstairs. If she did, the observant woman would question them about what was going on during dinner, which was nearly ready now, and Claire certainly didn't feel up to sharing. The fact that it concerned their target was the least of her concerns for once. She knew, though, that if pressed, Angela _would_ get it out of her. Oh, the humiliation...

Things had taken a nasty spiral after Hiro had rushed into Gray & Sons Watch Shop, a melting ice cream cone waving wildly in his hand even as one of the signs hanging in the shop declared "No Food or Drinks Allowed." By Claire's reckoning, that alone should have put the situation in her favor, but no...

At first, she honestly hadn't been able to comprehend that Hiro was going to pursue working a job alongside _Sylar_ of all people. Sure, sure, Gabriel wasn't Sylar yet, as they had both established, but there was no denying that they shared the same face, the same person. Claire reasoned that Gabriel wouldn't have been capable of accomplishing a third of what he had as Sylar if there wasn't that dark part sleeping silently within him somewhere, just waiting for the catalyst to awaken it. This was still the same person that killed Hiro's best friend in their time, and Hiro was all too ready to bump elbows with the guy in the workplace. Plus, he probably expected her to do the same, even as memories of Sylar killing Jackie and almost hunting her down flashed through her mind. Was he crazy?

Thus, with her mind and heart in a jumble of thoughts, emotions, and uncertainties, Claire hesitated outside of the shop far longer than she thought she had. Once the cheerleader finally gathered up the courage to approach the front door of the shop, she slowly pushed the door open to take in an overwhelming sight.

Hiro and Gabriel were sitting across from each other, Gabriel in a chair and Hiro on a wooden stool, with a small table in between them. She froze in the doorway, feeling a cold draft of air from the store rush around her as it clashed with the slightly warmer air coming in from the open door. The small _ding!_ over the door alerted the young men to her presence, and as both turned to face her, Claire's grip on the door handle was the only thing that kept her upright as her knees wobbled under her.

She felt more than saw Gabriel's mahogany eyes drill critically into her through his glasses, the shadows in the room causing him to look less like the nerd she was steadily having to accept and much more like the killer she knew. In fact, the more she stared at him, the less he looked like Gabriel Gray, watch keeper and nerd extraordinaire. In spite of his green, knitted sweater vest, Sylar came peeking through. She didn't entirely understand it. What was different?

And then there was Hiro, looking distinctly _not_ like himself at all. For the first time since Claire had known him, he was completely serious and still. He had the perfect appearance of what an heir to a CEO of a multibillion dollar company should look like. His black eyes were sharp and alert, and there was no trace of laughter on his features. He wasn't giving her a goofy little smile or grinning at her; instead, his thin lips were turned down into a stern frown. It reminded her of how severe and intimidating Japanese actors always appeared on World War II movies she used to watch. Guess it wasn't all just an act put on by American propaganda after all...

And then, he had to go ruin it by giving her a wink while Gabriel wasn't looking, which only led to flustering her further.

"I apologize but I'm about to close up for the day," Gabriel told the newcomer smoothly, fully expecting her to simply nod and leave the shop or something to that effect. He didn't think that she'd just keep standing there with the door open, wasting the work his air conditioning put into keeping his store at a comfortable temperature.

"Unless you're here for the job interview...?" he continued, annoyed. It took a lot of effort on his part to ward away all of the dumb blonde jokes that he had heard at college.

Claire snapped to attention. "Oh! Um, yes. Sorry."

She swept her icy blue eyes around the room, looking for another seat but found none in this area of the shop. There went her hopes of remaining inconspicuous for a little while longer. She glanced back at Gabriel, noticing how irritated he was becoming as he glared at her, and sent him an awkward, fake smile before she abandoned the front door to stand in front of the shop window to wait. After staring exasperatedly at her for a moment longer, making Claire squirm uncomfortably the entire time, Gabriel turned his attention back to Hiro.

"You must excuse my friend, Mr. Gray," Hiro said gravely, raising his voice like Gabriel's so that Claire could hear him clearly. "She has been looking for a job as well, so I called her to tell her that I'd found one available. I'm afraid I was vague on the directions." He ignored the hot glare his friend was currently shooting him in the back from across the store.

Gabriel paid no attention to Hiro's comment and instead went back to interviewing mode. Claire tried to catch what the two were saying, but their voices were so soft that she was only able to hear every fifth word or so. The more she tried to listen in, the more nervous she became, so she decided that it would be better for her to withdraw from what was happening around her and try to calm the raging storm within her instead.

She had never felt so divided before, not even when her ability manifested. When she'd first discovered her indestructibility, her confusion and feelings of being lost, of being a freak were all-encompassing. She stood united in her thoughts that it was a secret that could never get out to the wrong people, that it needed to be concealed as much as possible. Zach was the only one who knew about her for a long time, and while she did not regret confiding in him and reestablishing their friendship, she couldn't help but notice that her life as she knew it quickly unraveled after the secret was out. Even now, she was unsure what she was supposed to do with her ability, or if she was even capable of having any control over it at all. Why her? Why and how did it come to her? Why this particular ability? What was the reason for it, anyway? To do something great with it, or was it a trial in using responsibility, showing what kind of person she was? Was it a gift from God or a tool of science simply using her to carry out its experiment? She had none of these answers.

On the subject of Gabriel Gray, however, she was neatly torn in two. Half of her was in pure terror being in this shop with him, with a voice busy screaming at her to put as much distance between them as possible. Surely working alongside him would lead to suicide at some point? After all, wasn't this where everything started? If they failed, how would they avoid being killed in the middle of Sylar's rising bloodlust and thirst for power? Claire remembered the stories Hiro had told her of how Sylar had nearly killed him and Ando before, and Claire knew that she had only escaped from him because of Peter's interference. What was the likelihood of them both being saved again?

However, another part of her was starting to form its own voice; the more she observed Gabriel and his interactions, the louder the voice became. This part of her wanted to give him a chance because she could see that he wasn't that person in her memories, not yet. Yes, this was where his darkness had all began, but it could also be where it could be stopped and never arise to power, as well. The only way to do that was to get close to him, as friends, and to be there for him when the time came. If getting a job from him was the best way to start their rescue mission, then she should be jumping at the chance to secure it. Instead of fighting against him and his wish to destroy New York and steal people's abilities, they could be allies against the Company and help each other save the world. But still...

Why did she get the feeling that they would hate each other before this thing even got up off the ground?

Claire was brought back from her reverie by the sound of a chair scraping against the ground. Jerking her head over towards the two bespectacled men, she watched as Gabriel and Hiro shook hands haltingly as they addressed each other.

"Thank you for the interview, Mr. Anzai," said Gabriel monotonously. "Sad to say, but that was actually the most promising one I've had all day."

"So, I guess I should hope that my friend here doesn't do better than me, hm?" Hiro asked, giving Claire a severe look to try and wordlessly convince her to wipe that bemused look off of her face before Gabriel noticed. "That is, unless you have more than one position available?"

Gabriel stiffened at the thought of having _two_ strangers invade his world instead of the planned but still nearly intolerable one. Using a finger to adjust his glasses back up his nose, he shrugged that displeasing notion aside and said wearily, "No, I just have the one I need to fill." _Though, I certainly don't want to do it at all_, he added to himself.

"Ah, well, a shame," Hiro murmured, resigned. If Claire's eyes could grow any wider, then they certainly did at that moment. She still couldn't grasp this act that Hiro was putting on of a restrained but seriously ambitious job hunter. If she didn't know any better and if he wasn't applying for work in an obscure place like this, she would have thought it was for real. She wondered how long he could manage this before he bursted out with a "_Yatta!" _Looking at his face, she could see no cracks in his facade, though.

And speaking of facades, what was that Gabriel said about a Mr. Anzai? Who was that?

"Come now, don't be nervous," Hiro called to her as he made his way towards her, face uncharacteristically blank. He kept his features neutral until he was standing directly in front of her and was sure Gabriel couldn't see him before his lips turned up in the boyish grin Claire was used to seeing. "I'll be waiting for you just outside until you're done. Trust your friend _Yukio_. You'll be fine."

He had the nerve to wink at her again before taking a crunchy bite out of his remaining ice cream cone, which she hadn't noticed him still having before. He left her standing there without another word or so much as a look back. He just..._left her there!_

And what was that "trust your friend Yukio" crap? Unless... Oh! Yukio. The Mr. Anzai. Now it all fit. Hiro had given Gabriel a fake name during the interview, she was guessing because of the possibility that the mission may fail at some point. It was a risky move, though. What if Gabriel instigated a background check on them or something? Then, he would find absolutely nothing, and they would be in a heap load of trouble. What if he asked to look at one of their IDs at some point? Oh, there were so many things that could go wrong with this, but she knew that Hiro was smart not to give his real name. What if Gabriel still became Sylar and found out about their abilities? He would know exactly who he needed to find, where to go, and who their families and friends were that he could attack and draw them out. So be it, then. Gabriel Gray would not know her as Claire Bennet, but then what _would_ she be known as?

"If you're all done gaping at the wonderful scenery in here, I would _love_ to get started, Miss–?"

Oh, God, she had to think of something quick. Frantically, she scanned her eyes around the shop, looking for ideas.

"Oh, uh, sorry," she stalled, stammering a bit to give her even more time, "I've been kinda rude not introducing myself, huh? But, please, it's common courtesy to give your name first before asking someone else's..."

Gabriel scowled at her, thoroughly annoyed at her demanding, spacey, the-world-revolves-around-me demeanor. So typical of pretty girls like her; she was no different from the young women that had twittered mindlessly away at college with him.

"You'll only be privileged to know my name _if_ you get the job," he snapped back, all the while thinking that it would be nothing short of a miracle that could impress him enough to give someone like _her_ a job around him. He felt oddly satisfied seeing her flinch slightly, not used to seeing people make that type of reaction because of him.

Claire felt like a fool, but at least she had her name now. "You're right. Forgive my rudeness. My name's Madison. Madison DeVille. Let's get started, shall we?"

She motioned towards the table and moved to sit on the stool that Hiro had vacated. She was so busy congratulating herself on finding a last name among the various watch brands around the shop that she could actually pronounce that she didn't notice the grudgingly intrigued stare Gabriel sent her way. Gabriel recognized the name easily; DeVille was part of the Omega watch brand, a brand that was highly respected in the world of a timepiece restorer. What was the probability that someone with such a name would come into his store for a job and also be knowledgeable about the devices he worked so painstakingly for? Perhaps he had underestimated and misjudged her too soon.

Claire failed to notice Gabriel's hesitation and his now thoughtful countenance as well as the fact that the man didn't take his seat opposite of her until she had made herself comfortable in her own seat. It was a subtle mark of a gentleman that would have impressed Claire had she been looking for it. As it was, she was too busy trying to get her heart to stop pounding so quickly and concentrating on keeping her breathing even. She was so nervous that she could feel how sweaty her palms were getting before she wiped them on her jeans. It didn't help that this was her first ever job interview, and how fitting it was that her first had to be so vitally important and with _him_ of all people!

Gabriel mildly cleared his throat before saying tiredly, "Tell me about your prior work experience. Have you by chance worked around timepieces before?"

"Oh, well," Claire started, thrown off kilter by his bluntness. She had expected him to ask something along the lines of if she was even old enough to work, if she was a licensed U.S. citizen, or if she had ever committed a felony or misdemeanor. Her dad had once told her that those questions were the prerequisites to any potential employment, but Gabriel didn't seem to care much about all that. He just wanted to get this done as soon as possible. Perhaps he felt that his establishment was small and inconsequential enough so much that these things didn't apply to him? It would make sense. After all, it wasn't like this was part of a restaurant or a Walmart chain. "No, I've never worked around watches before. I mean, I had a fossil watch once, but I know that's not the same. I've never even had a job before, uh...sir."

He would never let on how her response disappointed him, as illogical as the feeling was. Moreover, she would never tell him how much pride and respect she'd lost for herself by having to refer to him as _sir_.

"Very well. You've had no formal experience, but what about any volunteer work? Community service? Babysitting? Selling girl scout cookies, perhaps?"

Claire withheld a scowl from her face at his sarcastic tone, choosing instead to smile sweetly at him. "I wouldn't know about cookies, but I did bake over five batches of cupcakes for a school fundraiser hosted by my cheerleading squad once."

_Cheerleading squad?_ Gabriel echoed forlornly. _She's a cheerleader? _No wonder he'd been getting such a sour feeling around her. She embodied his worst nightmare.

"And, I have babysat before, too, usually my neighbors' kids whenever they went out of town or something. I also have to look after my mom's dog, Mr. Muggles, whenever she's not available, and that's nearly a full-time job all by itself, I can assure you."

_She has a dog named Mr. Muggles_, Gabriel thought, feeling like gagging, _and it hasn't committed suicide yet? _He suddenly felt a wave of appreciation for his own name, for once.

"I've also worked at the soup kitchen a few times and picked up trash off the side of the road, outside cheerleading, of course. Don't get me wrong, I love my squad and everything, but hardly any of them would be caught dead wearing a hairnet or fiddling around someone else's empty cigarette carton. I can give you the names and numbers of the people I worked with if you need any references, uh, sir."

That got his attention. Obviously, she was highly involved with cheerleading, but she didn't seem to be solely confined in it like so many other girls he'd known in the past. She branched out and pursued endeavors that would embarrass and supposedly ruin the reputations of her teammates if they'd been "caught dead" helping their community, but she didn't care about any of that. She even offered to give out references of people who could confirm that she had done these things. Was she different from all the others? But, no, he was only fooling himself, being blinded by the hope that there was someone out there who could break the mold, who could upset the cycle of his life. That there was someone who could actually be...special. But, no, it was all a lie, it had to be. She was only being this way to get a job from him; that's how they all were. Friends to his face, users behind his back.

"No, Miss DeVille, that isn't necessary," he replied shortly, suddenly looking coldly determined.

Claire tensed up involuntarily. She recognized that look. It was the same look he had given her as he had watched her heal herself after he'd thrown her into a wall. She hadn't seen his face, but she had been able to see his eyes. Harsh, brown eyes that looked totally unfazed by the fact that their owner had just sawed the wrong girl's skull in half, eyes that were focused solely on her even as the man had held Jackie up against the lockers by the throat. Claire would have stayed frozen in fear if Jackie hadn't been able to tell her to run just before she bled to death.

As Claire's thoughts came back from her past, she noticed just why this particular look had taken her back to that time so easily. Gabriel's hair was unkempt, his eyes were bloodshot, and stubble was starting to show clearly on his face. It finally struck her that, while he looked annoyingly attractive like this, this wasn't what Gabriel Gray usually looked like. If not for his clothes and his dark-rimmed glasses, Claire felt that she could easily trick herself into thinking she was addressing Sylar now, not Gabriel.

"Do you have any experience keeping a designated area clean and tidy for a long period of time?" His voice cut in sharply, bringing her firmly back to her present.

"Well, I've always been good about keeping my room clean most of the ti–"

"Do you have any problems with answering phones and dealing with angry customers?"

"No, I love talking on the phone–"

"In a purely business setting? In other words, no senseless chatting," he ground out.

Claire matched him tone for tone. "No, I have no problem sticking to just business over the phone, and people don't bother me, either."

_I mean, I'm dealing with you right now, aren't I?_ she grumbled internally.

"How have your math scores been in school?"

That one through her for a loop. "It's, uh, not my best subject, but I don't understand why–"

"Relax, Miss DeVille. I'm only talking about basic math here. Simple addition and subtraction. Can you manage that?"

"Yes, but why?"

"Finances, Miss DeVille, as part of the job description. Did your friend not mention that to you?"

_He didn't _mention_ much of_ anything!Claire could have screamed out but she remained silent.

"Do you know how to manage money for a business?"

_Like a treasury?_ she wondered. "Um, no–"

"Can you balance a checkbook?"

"No, but–"

"Can you keep bills, paperwork, and other important documents in order and make sure they are seen to before a certain deadline?"

"Um, maybe, but–"

"Do you know how to operate a cash register?"

"Not really, but it can't be that hard, ri–?"

"Do you know anything about this job you're applying for, miss, or are you just deliberately wasting my time?"

"What is your problem?" she shrilled out, shooting up out of her seat, slamming her palms on the table, and completely forgetting who she was talking to. "What do you want from me?"

Gabriel leveled her with a cool stare for a long moment before he said in a tone that matched his stare, "Nothing but a capable worker, Miss DeVille."

"Well, how can you know if I'm capable or not if you won't even hear all of what I have to say? You can't expect me to be perfectly trained in _everything_ you've asked of me, especially considering my lack of experience. Surely, you could train me for a day so I could learn the ropes?"

Silence welcomed her speech, broken only when Gabriel rose from his seat, looking completely uninterested. "I don't need to explain myself to you. Taking the time to train an employee would defeat the purpose of hiring extra help in the first place, and I am far enough behind schedule as it is without having to deal with an incompetent employee. Besides, why should I even consider you when your friend is so much more qualified?"

Gabriel moved away from her, walking quickly towards the door and leaving her behind in a stunned silence.

Hiro? Be more qualified for a job than _her_? This was the same man-in-a-little-kid's-body that had to have a spazz-out moment at least every fifteen minutes, or he'd feel unfulfilled! Were they talking about the same person?

With a start, Claire realized that, no, they _weren't_ referring to the same person. The Hiro that sat down at that interview table was _not_ the same one that had left the shop. That Hiro was a flat out _lie!_ And poor Gabriel had no idea what he was getting into!

Belatedly, she rushed out the door of the shop, fulling expecting Hiro to be acting his usual, hyper self and for Gabriel to realize that he'd been tricked, only to find her Asian friend sitting calmly on a park bench, silent but expectant. Hiro Nakamura was absent, leaving the alter ego Yukio Anzai to take his place. Claire scowled heavily at him.

"Congratulations, Mr. Anzai," Gabriel said to Hiro as the Asian rose from his seat respectfully. "Upon careful consideration, I have determined that you are the most qualified for the position. You start immediately on Monday morning at seven A.M. We'll discuss the rest of your work schedule then. Do _not_ be late."

Hiro normally would have bulked under Gabriel's, and now Claire's, intense glares, but he kept himself collected. "Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Gray." Hiro bowed as was tradition with his culture. "I look forward to working with you."

Gabriel gave no other response other than a nod Hiro's way and a disdainful look towards Claire before he turned and retreated back into his shop, leaving Claire and Hiro alone with their thoughts.

Laughter broke the somber silence as Hiro jumped over to Claire in excitement, back to his old self again. "_Yatta!_ We did it! Ready to go home, Claire-chan?"

Just as Hiro placed a hand on her shoulder, Claire hissed out at him, "Sure, just so long as you know I'm going to hurt you as soon as we get there."

Hiro gave a nervous chuckle before teleporting them away, the last thing she saw from the scene being Gabriel removing his "Now Hiring" sign and closing up his shop.

From the corner of his eye, Gabriel noticed an abrupt movement coming from Madison and Yukio's direction, but when he turned his head to investigate, they were gone without a trace. Hadn't they been standing there just a second before? He shrugged, deciding to forget about it. He was obviously tired, he reasoned as he removed his glasses and rubbed his exhausted eyes. The dark-haired man knew what he had to do: close up shop, make it home, and then sleep until noon tomorrow. It _was _Sunday tomorrow, after all.

* * *

As soon as Hiro teleported them into her room at the Petrelli mansion, Claire followed through with her promise. She punched Hiro twice in the arm before moving to sit on her bed to sulk. She couldn't believe it. She just couldn't believe that Hiro freaking Nakamura could get a job before she could, and he had been lying the entire time! Well, sort of. It was complicated, really. After all, she had lied, too, about her name, but the rest had been totally honest!

Ugh, she couldn't understand it. Sure, Hiro had told her that he used to work an office job at his father's company, so she conceded that he had more experience than her. However, he had also told her that he'd completely _despised_ the job. He was always goofing off and dragging Ando into crazy antics to keep the job interesting. He couldn't sit still for a long period of time, and he was even known to skip work on occasion. How on earth was he going to hold a job like this? Did he realize how important it was? This wasn't a game, and Gabriel wasn't Hiro's father. He'd surely notice if Hiro skipped work or not, and Gabriel didn't strike Claire as the type who gave second chances. He sure didn't as Sylar!

And Gabriel! What was his deal? He had been so rude to her, so cold. She noticed that he didn't really seem like Mr. Personality when she'd first walked in, but he had at least been civil to her when his interview with her first started. Then, she mentioned something about not working with watches, or not having prior experience, or something, and he went through a metamorphosis. What in the world had happened?

One thing she knew for sure, though. Gabriel Gray was more complex a character than what she had first thought. The revelation didn't come as a reassurance to her. After all, he'd just shown that he was capable of being a jerk just as easily as all the jocks she'd hung out with back at school, just like every other guy she'd shown an interest in. Not that she was interested in Gabriel or anything! But, where were these feelings of disappointment coming from?

"I can't believe it," she mumbled aloud finally, shaking her head distractedly as she moved herself away from her current train of thought. "I just _can't._"

That was how it started. For twenty minutes, Hiro celebrated and Claire pouted. The blonde was just about to seriously talk with Hiro about everything when a knock on the door interrupted them.

"Just a second!" Claire called as she rose from the bed and opened the door to find...not who she was expecting in the slightest.

It wasn't her grandmother at the door, coming to tell her to come down for dinner. Instead, it was an emotionless looking man with grey hair and hard, experienced eyes. A man that Claire had only seen in pictures before.

"So you're Claire Bennet," the man remarked kindly, further shocking Claire and rendering Hiro totally silent. "It's nice to finally meet you."

Claire could only gape at him like an idiot, not sure of what to say. For standing in front of her was none other than her biological grandfather, Arthur Petrelli.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, people, I have some bad news, so brace yourselves. In case you haven't heard already, NBC in their oh-so-infinite wisdom have decided to cancel Heroes. There will be no season five or any follow up episodes to finish off storylines or tie loose ends together. They claim it's because Heroes only attracted five million viewers per episode (because that's SUCH a low number, you know...) and they want to make room for their newer shows. Because, you know NBC is renowned for great shows. :D Yeah, okay. The reality is that NBC is just being a bunch of dicks. There! Everyone's thinking it, I'm just saying it. I can only hope that Heroes will pull a Family Guy and make a comeback through DVD sells, but there's no guarantee. That, or another station needs to pick it up. Seriously.**

**By the way, Hiro actually did put a lot of thought into his pseudonym. Yukio means "happy hero" and "hero's going" or "hero's way".**


	8. Ch 7: One Petrelli, Two Petrelli

**A/N: Sorry for the delay. College this past semester just about killed me. Anyway, I'm too tired just now to formally acknowledge everyone who reviewed, favorited, and put this story in their alerts. Tomorrow, however, I will go back and add everyone's screen name and formally thank ALL OF YOU for sticking with me through this hiatus of mine. **

**Until then, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes, but I do own the boxsets for Season 1, 2, 3, and now 4, which I got for Christmas! :D Here's hoping the holidays treated all of you just as fortunately.**

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* * *

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_Ch. 7: One Petrelli, Two Petrelli, Three Petrelli, Four Part 1_

"_I was just like you. My head in the clouds, full of hope. I was gonna be a teacher. And then my power manifested and the dreams came. Visions of a bloody future, of deceit and death, the apocalypse. And when I awoke I tried to warn everyone. No one would listen. Why would they? Why should they? I was Cassandra screaming that the sky was falling, but when they looked up there wasn't a cloud in sight. And I did it with lies, with manipulation and betrayal. And it cost me everything: my friends, my husband, my boys. But Peter, it's the price I chose to pay to save the world." __– __Angela Petrelli_

Angela Petrelli gave another hard look at the ceiling, glaring in the direction of the guest room Claire was staying in before returning to set the table. Angela would never admit it or show it, but she was uneasy. Her husband had come home earlier than expected from a meeting with Mr. Linderman, but then again, she'd never known Arthur to conform to the expected, and now he was talking with his granddaughter for the first time since she'd first come to the Company, passing from their hands to Noah Bennet's.

Both she and Arthur knew that Claire had the potential to develop an ability someday, and when that time came, the Company would be able to use her. The problem with that knowledge was that Angela wasn't completely sure if Claire's power _had_ manifested yet. Yes, she had suddenly shown up with Kaito Nakamura's son who could bend time and space, but that didn't mean she had an ability. Angela had implied that she thought Claire had an ability once before, but Claire hadn't responded in any manner to confirm this assumption nor had Angela's dreams shown Claire doing anything unusual. With her adoptive father being heavily involved in finding people with special abilities, it was likely that in the future, Noah Bennet slipped up and allowed his daughter to become involved with specials, much to his chagrin. A smirk crossed Angela's thin lips at that. No, she couldn't imagine Noah would be happy about that at all, which would explain why Claire found Hiro and stayed with him instead of being safe at home. She had the same rebellious streak in her that Angela had possessed when she was Claire's age.

She hadn't thought up an excuse to tell Arthur explaining why Claire was here, and in hindsight, she supposed that no explanation would have satisfied her husband besides the truth, which he hadn't waited for. He wanted to use his abilities to see how much he could get from Claire and Hiro before demanding anything out of her. The Company didn't need Claire if she didn't have any powers, and in truth, Angela wanted to keep her granddaughter away from her world for as long as possible. Angela didn't want Claire to make the same mistakes, the same sacrifices she had been forced to make to save the world; she was still so young. She still had choices for her life, could still pursue her dreams without worrying about failure or about the consequences. Angela wanted Claire to live normally for as long as she possibly could. She hoped Arthur would agree with her after officially meeting his granddaughter. As for Hiro Nakamura, he was off-limits for Company use. Kaito had long since ensured that. Being one of the Company's founding members granted him such authority, and Angela was certain it wasn't worth going against him on such a trivial matter.

In truth, though, the unease Angela was feeling wasn't because of any of these matters. It was Arthur himself that she was feeling such doubt towards. She wasn't sure how to explain it, but something about their relationship had changed, something about _him_ had changed. Some might say that she and her husband had simply fallen out of love and this was the reason for how she now felt about him. Angela would have snorted aloud at this. If she had to analyze her marriage deeply, she would say a rift forced its way between them when Arthur chose Nathan as his favorite son, and Angela had chosen Peter, but that would be over-simplifying it.

The sad fact of it was she had sacrificed having a happy marriage in order to save the world a long time ago, and he had done the same. She doubted he could even understand her anymore without invading her mind, using abilities he'd only absorbed from others. The ebony-haired Petrelli matriarch suspected something terrible was going to happen because of him, and whatever it was, it would happen soon. She hoped it wasn't because of Claire and Hiro's arrival. The only way to know for sure was to hope her dreams would reveal whatever it was in time; the problem with this plan was that, with everything happening, she was having trouble sleeping without using pills for it. Her ability would only work if she fell asleep naturally, her visions of the future being her well-deserved reward.

It was times like these when Angela desperately wished she hadn't been given such insight into the future. She was always exposed to such horrible visions that sometimes it was hard to grasp that they weren't nightmares but actual, future events. She rarely allowed herself to feel this way, but for her granddaughter's sake, she hoped the future would remain kind, if only for a little while longer.

* * *

"So you're Claire Bennet. It's nice to finally meet you."

Claire stood frozen, hand still resting on the door handle from when she'd opened the door, and just stared.

Arthur Petrelli was here, just outside her room, talking to her. Alive. It was so strange.

For a man that would soon die of a heart attack, he looked surprisingly healthy. His gray hair was swiped stylishly to the side and had a healthy shine. The gray suit he wore was immaculate and, as Claire no doubt believed, expensive. The white dress shirt peeking out from the buttoned-up suit jacket he wore gave a glimmering sheen when the light hit it a certain way, showing off the shirt's silken material. His blue tie was plain but straight and added to the air of authority and confidence that seemed to have naturally descended upon Claire the moment Arthur had walked in the room. She fleetingly wished she had such assurance about herself. To add to his pride in his appearance, his face was cleanly shaven and granted her a calmed look, clearly at ease with himself and with what was currently happening.

Such an image of a man would instantly placate both men and women while simultaneously winning their compliance and respect. Claire would have been no different if it wasn't for his eyes. Though he was giving her a kind smile, his brown eyes remained cold and distant, certainly not the way a grandfather should look at his granddaughter or any family member for that matter. An expert ice carver couldn't chip away the hardness Claire spied in his eyes, and for this reason, Claire couldn't get herself to relax. She felt slightly guilty for mistrusting him so soon; she didn't even know him well enough to make any kind of judgement about him after all. All she knew was that she would take Angela's quiet cunning over Arthur's forbidding presence any day, for if his own son, Nathan, could be described as a shark, Arthur came across more as a velociraptor.

"Uh, hi," Claire started, glancing shortly at Hiro and catching his confused and tense expression. She turned her full attention back to Arthur, thinking that it would be unwise to turn her back on him for too long. "Sorry, sir, but I'm not sure I know who you are."

Arthur gave her a bemused expression, as if he didn't entirely believe her. "You mean to tell me that Angela hasn't told you who your deal ol' grandfather is yet?"

Claire swallowed nervously, trying to keep her face blank. "...Grandfather?"

"That's right, kiddo." He gave her that smile again, a crocodile's smile, and Claire underwent the grim realization that she knew next to nothing about Arthur Petrelli. Nothing about his ability, if he had one, his nature, his relationship with the Company, or the relationship he had with his family. He was the unknown factor in all of this, the one that could ruin them if she and Hiro weren't extremely careful. "I understand if you feel uncomfortable calling Angela and me by the usual pet names, seeing as how we haven't been much of a family to you before now, have we? All the same, I'm curious. How did you find out about us? How did you get here?"

Claire didn't hesitate. "My dad. My adoptive one. He didn't mean to, but he slipped up and I found out. As to how I got here," she looked back at Hiro again and he took a few tentative steps toward her, "I found Hiro, and he got us here." Hiro raised his hand and gave a small smile and a timid wave.

"Hmm. I see," Arthur kept his face clear of expression, fixing the both of them with his stern stare. After pausing to consider what Claire revealed, and more importantly, what she didn't, he asked a question that had been nagging him since he first found about about Claire's arrival. "As you definitely know that Angela and I are related to you and by the way you clarified Noah as your father, you must certainly know all about Nathan. Have you seen him yet? Talked to him at all?"

"If you're asking whether I've given away that he has an illegitimate child running around in the middle of his family campaign for Congress, the answer is no." Claire gave a bitter smile. "You don't have to worry about that, sir. I don't want to jeopardize him anymore than you do."

"Drop the 'sir,' kiddo. I'm your grandfather, not your boss. Just call me Arthur until you're more comfortable with something else," he said, gesturing for the both of them to come out of the room, drawing Claire to his side in the process. He gave her a brief one-armed hug that she didn't think he'd ever be able to manage with his stiff, no-nonsense posture before guiding her down the hall, Hiro following beside them. "And that's good to hear about Nathan. He really doesn't need any other, forgive me for saying, distractions during this campaign. Peter with his fanciful shenanigans and idealistic notions are doing that just fine. I guess you haven't seen him, either?"

"No. Not yet."

He sent her a curious sideways glance. "Not yet?"

"Well, I mean," Claire stammered, "I'm sure he'll come around eventually. You're his parents, aren't you?"

"I suppose so." Arthur laughed. "Though that hasn't made much of a difference before."

The rest of the way was silent as they descended down the steps, past the kitchen, and into the dinning room where Angela and dinner were waiting. Arthur removed his arm around Claire's shoulders, and the cheerleader felt more than just the weight of it had been lifted off of her. His presence, while still making her uneasy, was less unbearable now. She guessed that he just had that natural effect about him. Arthur was a man who was used to having power and using it when and as he wished. It was as much a part of him now as Claire's ability was now a part of her. Perhaps, she reasoned, he carried both a blessing and a curse that he couldn't escape no more than she could stop her own power. She just hoped she would find away to accept her indestructibility before she became just as jaded and hardened as he seemed to be.

Arthur pulled out Claire's chair for her in true gentleman fashion, pushing it in as she sat down with Hiro taking his place beside her, before taking his own seat at the head table. He leaned over to give Angela, who was sitting to his right, a peck on the lips before serving everyone their meal.

Arthur struck up the conversation. "So, Hiro, tell me, how's ol' Kaito doing? It's been a while since I've talked with him."

What Hiro's response was, Claire couldn't recall. She was too busy swimming through her own thoughts, thinking, worrying, dreading if she had made a huge mistake with Arthur. She expected him to be more inquisitive than he was about how she had come to be here and why; she thought he would be even worse than Angela but he hadn't been. Or so it appears.

She pushed around her mashed potatoes with her spoon, breaking down finally to take a bite. When she brought the spoon up, though, her eyes locked with Angela's own dark one gazing significantly at her, a warning shining in them. The stare lasted only a moment before Angela went back to paying attention to Arthur and Hiro's conversation about how Katio's empire was running and how Hiro didn't enjoy working there at all, but it was enough. Claire knew that if she absolutely _had _to make an alliance with someone, Angela would be less likely to throw her into the deep end than Arthur. Don't ask her how she knew that; she just _did_, and that was probably the thing that scared her the most.

* * *

Dinner in the Petrelli mansion ended, and Arthur and Angela retired to their room. Hiro and Claire holed themselves up in Claire's room like before, sitting on their bed with the door closed, talking.

"We have to be careful with Mr. Petrelli, don't we?" Hiro asked, tiredness seeping into his voice as he pushed his glasses back up his nose.

Claire didn't respond, both of them already knowing the answer. She kept her arms wrapped around her legs, resting her head on her knees, and just stared down at the bedspread. She was exhausted from the day. First shopping, then dealing with Gabriel, and now this. If everyday in the past was going to be like this, she wasn't sure how long she would least, rapid cellular regeneration or no.

"Our enemies are stacking up against us," Hiro began, looking over at her as he ran a tired hand through his black hair. "We may need to get more people on our side."

"More people?" Claire asked, surprised, looking up at her Asian friend. "Who are you thinking about? Who would actually _want_ to help us? Who could?"

"Peter Petrelli," Hiro said confidently. "He could. He _would!_"

"No," Claire said firmly, lowering her legs and crossing her arms in front of her. "We're not going to get him involved. Any of them. This is our fight, our mission. You chose the two of us for a reason, Hiro, and besides," she sighed, "Peter wouldn't be able to help us right now anyway. He would most certainly try, but he doesn't have any abilities. He would only end up getting hurt. He's also the other half of Operation: Nuclear New York. We don't need to be the ones to trigger anything to help that. He's...he's too good for that."

Hiro looked like he wanted to argue but instead shook his head and conceded. "Very well, cheerleader. Not now. But, you have to agree that we may need his help one day."

Claire's ice blue eyes narrowed in concern before fatigue covered her expression again.

"I'm going to bed," she said, getting up from the bed to begin her nightly ritual. "You should get some sleep, too, while you can. You look exhausted, and let's face it, you probably won't get much rest after you start work on Monday."

Hiro groaned hearing the word "work," but he wasn't about to say anything smart. He could tell that Claire was still sore over losing the job to him, and how dismissive Gabriel had been to her in the first place.

"Trust me, I don't really envy you your position," the blonde asserted. "I just... I have _no idea_ what I'm going to be doing while you're working! It's going to be so boring. Especially without you."

"Oh, you really mean that, Claire-chan!"

Claire was glad she had her back turned to Hiro, so he couldn't see her blushing; he would make an even bigger deal about what she said if he did. But she meant what she said. Hiro was the kind of friend that could brighten up any situation, as corny as it sounded. She was glad that, if she could have been with anyone on this insane journey of theirs, that it was him.

"Oh, shut up and go to bed, Hiro!"

She threw a pair of socks at him she'd gotten from her dresser, watching as he dodged it by running over to the door and flying across to his room, throwing a "Good night!" behind him as he ran. All of the clothing Angela had gotten for her that day had been stored away in their proper places in the dresser, the wardrobe, and the walk-in the closet while she and Hiro were out. All of the old clothing from before had been removed, though Claire knew not nor cared where.

She laughed lightly, retrieving the socks from the floor as she did. Her smile quickly dissolved back into a perturbed expression, her brow scrunched up in a tired crease as she stared down at the fuzzy blue and lime green socks. She turned, silently put them back in the dresser, and collapsed on her bed to just stare up at the canopy above her. She was quiet and unmoving for a long time before finally agreeing.

"One day. Maybe. But not now."

* * *

"Truly charming, isn't she? But I guess, she would be. After all, she's _our_ granddaughter," Arthur said to his wife, an ironic tone coloring his voice. Angela sat in a chair next to their bed, reading a book and listening calmly to Arthur's assessment of her two recent guests. "And Hiro, he sure has grown! I haven't seen him since he was a little boy. Kaito really wasn't much for sharing family pictures."

"He's always been that way. Very protective of his family," Angela quipped, lazily turning a page.

"Of course, you would know, eh?" Arthur laughed. Angela didn't react. More rustling was heard through the vast room as Arthur changed out of his suit and into pajamas, Angela already relaxing in a white silk robe. The gray-haired man folded his suit over another chair on the far side of the room then turned and went into their adjoining bathroom. Water was heard running before the distinct sound of someone brushing their teeth echoed from the bathroom. Angela's eyes didn't move from her book.

When Arthur finally came back into the bedroom, propping himself on the pillows of the bed, Angela began her own inquiries.

"So, how was your visit with Daniel? Profitable?"

"As always, but I know that isn't what you really want to ask me," Arthur said knowingly. He didn't wait for Angela to clarify. "Claire's mind _and _Hiro's, they were both so...muddled, frenzied. A lot of things were happening with them at once, it was hard even for me to tell exactly what they were thinking. A bit strange, seeing that it was just a meeting with an average stranger, or that's what it should have been. I know Claire is wary of me, as she should be. She said she hasn't seen Nathan or Peter, which is good. They must be kept apart for as long as possible."

"Naturally."

"But, there's more, isn't there? Yes..." Arthur got up from the bed, moving around it to stand in front of Angela. He gently tugged the book from her hands, placing her bookmark where she'd left off––he knew how much she hated to fold the pages––and placed the book on the nightstand. He then perched his hands on the chair's wooden armrests, leaning down to look her straight in the eyes, leveling the odds between them. "I know they're not from this time, Ang. It's obvious they're from the future. What I want to know is when."

Angela and Arthur gazed at each other, analytically not lovingly, as Angela answered, "From the day of the explosion, from what she told me. November the eighth."

"Interesting. We succeed, then." Once again, Angela gave no response. "And that's why they're here. To prevent that from happening?"

"They will try."

"How?"

Angela shrugged. "Same way I tried to. So long ago."

"That was a terrible time for you, that failure."

"I only wish that the defeat won't be as harsh to them as it was to me," Angela said and found that she meant it sincerely. "They're still so young, teenagers."

"Claire is, but Hiro is twenty eight!"

"I think you'll agree with me that he behaves like one." Angela smirked. "Did you make out anything else in their minds?"

"Just a few jumbled words here and there, but there were a few I found to be very interesting."

"What were they?" Angela asked, exasperation seeping into her voice. She was tired of Arthur's games.

"From Claire: _Arthur … Alive … Velociraptor … Indestructibility … _Any idea what that's supposed to mean?"

"You know I haven't, and honestly, Arthur," the ebony-haired woman glared at Arthur, "might I take the time to remind you that this is your own _granddaughter_ whose mind you're filtering through? I tolerate you using your abilities on me, but you need to respect Claire's privacy as you do Peter's and Nathan's. She and Hiro are not as big of a threat as you're making them out to be."

"Oh, aren't they?" Arthur raised an eyebrow, amused, before becoming gravely serious. "Because I heard something else, something even more unsettling, this time from Hiro."

The two Petrelli's regarded each other, one with slight trepidation, the other with hostile shrewdness who waited a few moments more before unveiling what he'd heard in mind of Kaito's son.

"_Must stop … Brain Man … Can't... Find out … _"

They were interrupted by Arthur's cell phone ringing. Not removing his brown eyes from Angela's for a moment, Arthur eventually left Angela to answer his phone on the fourth ring.

"Yes? … Oh, Son, how are you? … Of course, of course you can come in, your mother and I would be happy to see you … Alright, be downstairs soon." Arthur snapped his phone shut, his warm tone melting away. "That was Nathan. He needs to talk to us about something, about my visit to Daniel no doubt. Check that Claire's asleep and come down. We'll discuss _this_ more later."

Angela watched him leave, the rigidity in her shoulders remaining. What he'd heard from Hiro... She couldn't even begin to fathom what that meant. Brain Man? Who was Brain Man? It seems that Claire wasn't being entirely truthful with her, but that really was no surprise. She would have to keep a closer watch on them, Claire, Hiro, _and_ Arthur. None of this was boding well.

Little did any of them know that it was just beginning.

* * *

**A/N: And there we go! I hope everyone enjoyed this! Please, tell me what you think of Arthur. It's been a long time since I've seen season three, and I'm afraid I've taken a bit of liberty with his character. If that has particularly upset any of you, please don't hesitate to let me know. Tell me what you want to see from him and I'm sure I can deliver. As for everything else, comments? Questions? I hope to get part two of this chapter up soon, so to reward you for being so patient with me, the next chapter will include a bit of Nathan and a bit of Peter, and Hiro and Claire will meet one or the other, though not in the way you may expect. Also, the next chapter will feature Hiro's first day of work with Gabriel! What chaos can come from this? You (and I) will have to wait and see!**

**Thank you all again!**


	9. Ch 8: Three Petrelli, Four

**A/N: Apologies for the delay. Life happened.**

**Thank you to Reviewers: RagamuffinSundrop, SailorBoo, ravynsprt, Neuronerd, megumisakura, danigolightly, Neurotic-Isopod, olivia, Shining Through, johncorn, La-p'tite-tete, and alias093001.**

**Thank you to those who Favorited/Story Alerted: billandsookie, .LoveForever, MontyBoosh, Natsori forevaX, Panda Hallows, SailorBoo, Blue Eyed Canadian Author, crookedperfection, danigolightly, , Kendral, RagamuffinSundrop, ravynsprt, and RazsGirl.**

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_Ch. 8: One Petrelli, Two Petrelli, Three Petrelli, Four Pt. 2_

"_People think I collect art. What I really collect are lives fixed in paint. A perfect moment capturing an entire existence, made immortal. A monster's fight to survive and live to kill again. A mother willing to fracture her own soul in order to protect her child. Youth's struggle for innocence despite life's cruelty. The double-edged lies needed to sustain a double-edged life. A wandering hero's pure joy at success, and his darkest hour, where all the world seems lost. All perfect moments frozen in time. Alone, each tells a single story. Together, they can tell the future." –– Daniel Linderman_

Claire and Hiro were asleep when Angela went to check on them. Closing the door to Claire's room soundlessly, she continued her route down the hall to descend the stairs, faintly hearing Arthur open the front door to greet Nathan.

Angela hovered at the last step, seeing the two Petrelli men shake hands, Nathan noticeably tense and irritated, Arthur calm and somewhat smug. Nathan was wearing a blue business suit, much like the one Arthur had been wearing earlier in the day. Angela had seen it many times already on campaign posters and commercials. Her son looked handsome in it, as always, but she could see the real, sad purpose behind wearing such a suit. It was the vain attempt of a little boy still trying to imitate and impress his father, to earn his approval.

"Hey, Ma," Nathan said upon noticing Angela, offering her a small, strained smile and moving forward to hug her. Angela returned the affection much more genuinely than Arthur had with his handshake to his son.

"Arthur said you wanted to speak with us, that it was urgent?" Angela said, head resting on his shoulder before she pulled back slightly. She felt his arms leave her as he remember why he was here. She knew it had to do with Arthur, so she interjected before a shouting match could begin and wake up Claire and Hiro. It simply wouldn't do for Nathan to meet his illegitimate daughter in the middle of his family values focused campaign. "The sitting room would be a good place for us to talk, I should think. You two go ahead. I'll bring in some tea."

"You don't have to do that, Ma. I'm not staying long," said Nathan hurriedly, but Angela only gave a thin-lipped smile at her eldest, moving towards the kitchen. Nathan sighed tiredly. There was never any stopping her . . .

Barely looking at his father, Nathan walked through his childhood home into the sitting room. He remained standing, though, radiating impatience as Arthur sat comfortably in the high-backed chair Angela had also sat in when she first interrogated Claire and Hiro. Nathan opened his mouth, about to start in on his father, but Arthur raised his hand to silence him, anticipating his outburst.

"It's impolite to start a conversation if all members of the party are not present. Really, son, haven't I taught you better?" Arthur smiled kindly, but it did not lessen the insult he threw at Nathan. Even though Nathan was used to this type of attitude from his father, the condescension behind the comment still caused a tick in his tightened jaw. Nodding shortly, he remained standing, glaring into the fireplace that was in the room.

Angela returned after a few minutes, carrying a tray with three white wedgwood tea cups, each filled with the steaming liquid. The Petrellis, though rich and influential, were very private people and had no desire to hire maids or butlers. They only had a cook who they regularly hired for special dinners and events, and he lived happily in his own home with his family. In any event, the Company emphasized absolute secrecy about their abilities, meaning that, outside of their immediate family, it would be unwise and unsafe for Arthur and Angela to inform any staff members about their gifts. The fact that they declined to even tell their own sons the truth about themselves pretty much ensured that telling gossipy maids was out of the question. Besides, she and Arthur loved their independence too much to give it away to anyone else.

She handed one cup to Arthur, the other to Nathan. The latter took it merely out of politeness, merely holding it awkwardly as Arthur took a small sip.

"It's decaf, don't worry," she quipped wryly, taking a sip of the steaming cup.

"That's good," Arthur said, taking another gulp before refocusing his attention on Nathan. "Alright, son, to what do we owe the pleasure?"

Nathan was, as always, quick to get to the point. It was what would make him a great Senator; he knew when and how to cut the bullshit. "You do know, _Pop_, that I'm running for office? For the seat in the Senate?"

"Yes, that _is_ what the November elections are supposed to entail, I recall." Arthur smirked. "Otherwise, I really don't know where all that money I've given you has been going."

"Yet, you went to see Linderman recently. _Again._" Nathan placed his cup gingerly on the mantle, leaving his hard gaze on Arthur, as if challenging him to deny it. Arthur did not rise to the bait.

"I must know where you get your informers from," he only said, his eyes laughing mockingly at Nathan. "God knows, they're doing an exceptional job for you."

"You did see him, then?" Nathan pressed.

Arthur sighed. "Yes, I went to see him in Vegas, and we had an exceptional time. This one Elvis impersonator we saw was really something. You should've seen it."

Nathan took a small step forward from the fireplace, letting out a small sound of disgust. "So, what is this? Do you actually _want_ to ruin my campaign, or did you actually mean it when you said you were proud of me for running for office?"

Arthur blinked. "Of course, Nathan, I meant every word. But Daniel has been a long-standing friend of mine. You can't really expect me to abandon him, to not return his calls or go visit him, just because you're running a campaign."

Nathan's voice rose. "He's a mob boss, Dad––!"

"––Which hasn't made him any less loyal to this family in the past," Arthur finished calmly, but his eyes had suddenly turned frigid.

"There." Nathan jabbed a finger at Arthur. "Right there. _That's_ what I'm afraid of. Do you honestly think the press will reward his _loyalty_ when they find out how deeply he's related to our family? If that hits the news, I'm done! The seat ––and any other position––will be forever out of my reach! And it's like you don't even care about it."

"Well, what do you want me to do?" Arthur shrugged carelessly. "End our friendship, because I can tell you right now, that's not happening."

"Of course it's not! But can't you just––not go visit him anymore until _after_ the election. We've got less than a year; surely that won't kill you."

"I think you're looking at this all the wrong way––"

A look between disgust and vexation appeared on Nathan's face. "––Oh, God––!"

"––Mr. Linderman can prove to be a great help to you should you need it in the months to come."

"Oh, yeah, because I'd just _love_ it if I won with _his_ crooked money."

"You've been talking with Peter too much, I see." Arthur said, smiling lightly behind his tea cup, but that same hardness still rested dangerously in his brown eyes. "Daniel is not this parasite you're making him out to be, son, and I'm willing to bet, you'll seek him out before this election ends because you need him, just as much as I do. You'll see."

"So, in other words," the oldest Petrelli son concluded, his words stiff and his posture tense as his hands rested on his hips, "you're not gonna do anything. Anything at all."

"This conversation is over, Nathan." As if to emphasize his statement, Arthur placed his now empty tea cup on the table with a firm _clank!_

"Okay. Okay, _fine. _Thanks a lot, Dad." Then, in a much more polite, but reserved tone, he mumbled, "Thanks for the tea, Ma," before storming out of the room and out of the house.

Although Angela's stare at Arthur was blank, one of her dark eyebrows was raised in accusation. Seeing this, Arthur simply stated, "He needs to remember his place. Just because he's a big, bad politician now doesn't mean he has any right or power to challenge me. Besides." He rose from the chair, a small smirk on his face. "He'll see my way eventually."

* * *

Sunday proved to be a comparatively uneventful day than the past couple days during which Hiro and Claire had been forced to scramble around. Claire had requested to sleep in, skipping breakfast, and she wasn't sure what Hiro, Angela, and Arthur were up to. Hiro was supposed to be preparing for his first day of work at Sy—_Gabriel_'s watch shop, but she honestly doubted any progress was being made by him on that front. No doubt, before the day was over, she would have to go in there and physically _force_ the man to get serious about it. But, in actuality, it shouldn't take too much convincing on her part; Hiro knew how important this next phase of their plan was. Hiro had to get close to Gabriel, and somehow, she would have to do the same. But what were they supposed to do after that? How were they supposed to _change_ him? If you asked Claire, she just couldn't see why they couldn't kill him and call it a day.

Claire winced. With thoughts like that, she was becoming more and more like Company Man Noah, more like Angela and Arthur. She never wanted that to happen, to become that cold and calculating. Perhaps, there really was a way this could all end without bloodshed; if she was going to find it, she needed to remain positive.

Still, with her laying alone in bed with nothing but her thoughts to preoccupy her, she couldn't help but think of certain things that had happened in her life. The birth of her little brother, Lyle, which she could only barely remember. Finding out she was adopted. Finding and losing Zach as a friend. Sucking up to Jackie and taking her shit for years before it finally paid off and she made the squad. Getting that nasty cut on her palm when she and Jackie had been fighting. How that cut had healed up completely after just a couple days. How more and more strange things had been happening to her: getting paper cuts from her homework papers, but having no mark or pain there when she went to examine it only seconds later. Skinning her knee after falling from a misjudged flip during cheerleading practice, only when the coach had returned to her with some bandages from a first aid kit, there was no mark to be found. Only dried blood, dirt, and grass.

She wasn't completely oblivious. She had known something was happening to her that no one else, no one normal, was experiencing during their teen years; she knew she was dealing with more than just puberty. That moment when she first gathered up the courage to jump from that same eighty foot drop she'd also fallen from and let Zach film, that moment when she was falling, the ground closing in on her fast, was the most frightening and yet most exhilarating moment of her life. When her body hit the ground, she barely felt how it jarred and jerked, the air being completely knocked from her. For a moment, she had absolutely no control of her breathing. But it didn't last long. She popped her kneecap back into place, stood, and readjusted her ribs. Within seconds, she looked as if she'd been merely taking a stroll around the site the entire time. It scared her, made her hate herself, but it also made her feel strangely whole, as if she had found a part of her that she'd always known was missing. The realization was very dizzying, and truth be told, while her mind has stopped spinning from the whole notion of abilities and specials, she still didn't feel reconciled with herself. There was no time to figure things out, not after Brody had assaulted her and taught her that, despite her healing capabilities, she could still be hurt. Not after Sylar had come for her with a whole group of specials following in his wake. Not after the explosion and seeing so much panic and confusion and death around her. She could feel the war raging in her mind, but she didn't really know why there was even any fighting or what part of her was winning. If only she could learn more about her ability, about the nature of what was happening not only to her but to all of them. With that thought, she suddenly remembered.

_Activating Evolution!_ Chandra Suresh! If she really wanted to learn, that was exactly the man she had to go to. And she had recently seen him, him having drove their taxi, which means he must live somewhere in New York. She could find him. She could find him and ask him all these questions that had been plaguing her for months! She could––!

Claire, having jumped up from her bed in excitement, ready to drag Hiro out of his room for another gripping adventure around the streets of New York, forced herself to calm down and resume her place in bed. It was not an easy effort, but it had to be done. It was not the time for that. She should be helping Hiro. Sylar was who they needed to focus on right now; self-discovery could come a bit later. For she did agree that they would need to seek Chandra out eventually, but now just wasn't right. It really hurt trying to convince herself of that.

Thoughts of Sylar, though, had her thinking back to what she knew about him, what interactions she had had with him. The school fiasco was a memory she really didn't want to reflect on; she knew what Sylar was capable of, in truth. But what about Gabriel, the man before the monster? What was he like?

Based on appearances alone, Gabriel was, truly, a nerd. She guessed he was somewhat of a loner, too, not only out of necessity but also from choice. Well, doesn't being alone, away from normal human contact, do something to a person? Perhaps that was why he went so crazy in the future. But, somehow, she knew there had to be more to it than that. It was never that simple.

She remembered her and Hiro overhearing the conversation between Gabriel and his mother. There had been such strain there between them, so much expectation and disappointment it was almost painful. Gabriel's family life seemed to be less than ideal. She couldn't really judge based on this one encounter; she would have to learn more if she could.

And then, of course, there was her interview with him. Her face started to burn in mortification just thinking about it.

He had looked so frazzled but still irritatingly in control. He had certainly dominated the direction the interview went, barely listening to what she had to say, insulting her, making her feel lower than the gum that had once clinged to the bottom of her white cheerleading sneakers. It was as if he knew exactly what he had to do to ensure that she would fail with him from the very beginning. In fact, she reasoned, that was exactly what he had done. He had never meant to take her seriously. She was labeled as an incompetent, as an enemy the second she had opened the shop door, the _ding!_ of that annoying overhead bell drawing his attention to her.

Even with the memories she had of Sylar, Gabriel Gray had proven that he could be a very intimidating figure in his own right. Claire was really starting to worry about Hiro.

A buzz from her nightstand shook her from her sour thoughts. Turning on her side, Claire reached for her pink cell phone, once again feeling a rush of luck and thankfulness that it had been lodged safely in her jean pocket when Hiro had fled the explosion with her. It had been silent up to this point, seeing as how no one from her present could get proper access to it. She had thought it might accidentally receive texts and calls her past self would get from people––namely Jackie and her parents––during this time, essentially interfering with the past and causing a huge mess. So far, though, that hadn't occurred either. Time was a strange thing, and speaking of which, there's only one person who could now reach her with a text message.

Claire flipped her phone open, reading the new message from who else other than Hiro Nakamura.

"I'm bored," it read.

Claire rolled her eyes and, instead of texting back, rose from the bed, exited her room, and barged into Hiro's bedroom, still clutching her phone in her hand.

"What are you doing?" she demanded at Hiro's sprawled form on the bed, glaring at him. "I thought you said we should only use our phones in case of an emergency. You know, the whole time paradox thing and all? Besides, I'm right across the hall!"

"But this _is _an emergency, Claire-chan!" Hiro implored her, sitting up. "I'm _bored!_"

The cheerleader rested her hands on her hips, sending Hiro a blank stare. Then, as if something else had just come to her attention of being more important, she spun on her heel to leave the room.

Hiro's reaction was instant. Springing from the bed, he ran to her, placing a hand on her shoulder, spinning the blonde around to face him. "Wait, wait, _waitwaitwait!_"

Claire laughed at his desperation, all of her previous bleakness from earlier forgotten as she stared at his askew glasses and messy black hair. Reaching up, she tried to fix a strand of his hair back into place, but the effort proved futile. His hair simply refused to stay flat. "I hope you'll make a better impression at work tomorrow than you do now."

She hadn't meant for her comment to dampen the mood. She frowned as she watched Hiro's hyperness dissipated into absolute seriousness, a crease of apprehension forming on his brow, and his eyes lost their playful spark.

Sighing, she pulled him into a warm hug. "I'm sure everything will be fine. Nothing will go wrong, and if it does––" She stopped, bloody and horrifying images raging through her head as she realized what could result of one misstep. "If it does, just call me. We'll figure something out together."

They pulled apart, Hiro suddenly beaming at her. "Of course, it'll be fine! It's just store managing. All I'll be doing tomorrow is balancing Brain Man's check book and learning the difference between cash and credit on the register. Nothing compared to everything else we've been doing."

Claire smiled sheepishly.

"I guess you're right."

* * *

Sunlight began to peak through the many curtains and windows located throughout the Petrelli house. Birds could be heard chirping outside as well as the faint beginnings of New York's morning traffic. Hiro sat at the Petrelli dining table, listening and watching it all, barely moving from the spot since he'd settled there an hour before. He had risen early that morning like he usually did, barely sleeping the night before. The time traveler hated to admit it, but he was much more nervous than he'd let Claire believe the day before. Except it wasn't actually nervousness. It was fear. Hiro was actually afraid of this mission, fearing everything that could go wrong. And truly, there was so much working against them, so many variables not accounted for. It could very well be that instead of stopping Sylar's rise to power that they, that _he_, would actually be the cause of it. This gift he had been given was a powerful one, but it was so dangerous. Not for the first time, Hiro questioned himself, his resolve wavering.

But, there was no turning back. They had no other option but this plan. He would go through with this, just as Claire will when the time is right for her.

Such a strange thing, time.

Hiro rose from the table. He was dressed in some of his nicer clothes––dark dress pants and a white polo shirt––feeling as out-of-place as he did when he had teleported into the women's bathroom back in Japan. His lips quirked slightly at the memory, recalling that it was back when Ando still didn't believe he had powers. Back when Ando was still alive and healthy and safe in Japan. It felt so long ago, like a different life.

Briefly, the thought of teleporting straight to work entered his mind, but he disregarded it. Hiro didn't want to overuse his ability, nor did he want to pass up an opportunity to explore the city a bit more. He knew roughly where he needed to go, and he still had another hour before he would be considered late, something he was sure Mr. Gray would not accept gracefully. Besides, the Asian especially wanted to leave the Petrelli mansion behind. The feeling of being watched––no, being _monitored_––had not alleviated since they had arrived here, and in fact it had only intensified once Arthur Petrelli swooped into their lives. If it was possible, Hiro wanted to get himself and Claire out of this house, preferably to a place of their own, a safe place where they wouldn't have to be afraid of slipping up, of being discovered. Not by Angela or the Company or by Gabriel. But money was an issue, and he doubted this job would instantly guarantee him enough rent money for them both. A new apartment would have to be thought about later. Maybe Claire had some ideas he didn't.

Hiro crossed the threshold, closing and locking the door behind him (Angela was thoughtful enough to lend both himself and Claire extra house keys, so they could come and go as needed. He still thought the gesture was...strangely generous). He explored the already bustling streets, watching the city come to life as he walked, an open-mouthed smile on his face. Even though he had been in New York for some weeks now, the city was still so wondrous to him. He took particular amusement in some performers playing music on hawaiian drums and a group of teenagers free-styling right in the middle of the sidewalk, but before long, he was forced to disperse from the gathering crowd and hurry on. Being late to work really wasn't a smart option.

With every step he took towards his destination, though, the anvil of doubt and fear that had left him in his explorations of the city gradually fell on his shoulders once again. And even though he was taking his time, before he knew it, he was staring into the clear shop window, _Gray & Sons_ spanning across the window in large but clear, cursive white letters.

Taking a steadying breath, Hiro entered the watch shop and began to experience what would soon be known as the most anticlimactic day of his life. Or so it would appear.

* * *

Mr. Anzai had arrived on time today, but Gabriel soon realized that that was to be the only mercy he would receive from hiring the man. As he showed Anzai the various day-to-day expectations of the store and its employees––how to clock in and out, where he kept all the files and records of the store, how to file and record everything correctly, how to find and complete pending orders, how to use the rather antiquated register system, etc.––it was obvious to him that Anzai seemed very distracted through all his explanations. For the moment, Gabriel had left him to his own devices, while he took up his usual spot in the back of the store, tinkering fervently away at another timepiece, confident that he could complete all of his pending orders far sooner than he had originally anticipated.

Now if only he could work for more than fifteen minutes without becoming distracted…

"Uh, Mr. Gray?"

Anzai appeared at his shoulder again, Gabriel seeing a highly magnified image of the Asian's left nostril before he could remove his work bifocals. Adjusting his regular glasses, he replied, impatience starting to leak into his voice, "Yes?"

Anzai handed him a piece of paper he recognized as a customer report, and the Asian pointed to the line he had questions about.

"_Gomen,_ but you said every customer on file had to have a recorded address and telephone number. Well, this one doesn't. Have an address, I mean. So…"

Gabriel's eyes raked over the file. The customer's name, Jefferson Daniels, registered in his mind. He had restored quite a few timepieces over the years for him including a recent repair of a dark wood grandfather clock, so that meant that he _had_ to have an address somewhere on here.

"It's right there, Anzai." Gabriel pointed at the spot on the page, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Right under where it says 'Billing Address'. If we don't have it under their basic information, then it will most likely be found there at the bottom."

"Oh." Anzai had the grace to look embarrassed. "Okay. _Gomen._"

Anzai left Gabriel's side, allowing him to try and refocus his mind on the task at hand. It almost worked until yet another crash reverberated around the store. Gabriel sighed heavily. "Everything alright up there?"

Anzai's stammering weakly made it back to him.

"_H-Hai_–I mean, yes, Mr. Gray. Sorry for disturbing you."

Briefly, Gabriel contemplated investigating the damage Anzai had just caused, but then he remembered what he had seen the last time he had gone to see what chaos the Japanese man had wrought. Right now, he decided, ignorance was the greatest bliss he could know.

* * *

Hiro _hated_ filing. It was boring, monotonous work that somehow also contained the heaviest emphasis of importance if any company was to maintain organization. Hiro thought that if it _was_ so crucial, why couldn't someone have made the process more exciting or at least more fun?

But now, Hiro saw that filing was meant to be the worst punishment imaginable as he looked down at the mess he had made in utmost horror, feeling a rush of gratitude that Brain Man hadn't come to witness his shame this time. His embarrassment at making a fool of himself in front of Gabriel had forced a hasty retreat from him because it reminded him of his failure. His failure at killing Syler after he had killed his mother, how easily Sylar had intimidated him and caused Hiro to fear him. It all came rushing back as Hiro heard the exasperation in Gabriel's voice so much so that when Hiro had hurried back into the front of the shop, he accidently knocked over all of the files he'd already completed and stacked on top of the counter. All of them had tumbled to the floor, papers flying and crumpling everywhere, and a drowning sort of dejection infected Hiro from the inside out at the horrible sight. Everything would have to be redone all over again. Absolutely everything.

It wasn't even lunchtime yet.

Though the day passed slowly, Hiro worked hard to make up for his many errors of the day, eventually cleaning up all the files and moving on to other projects. Though sometimes his overzealousness caused more accidents to happen than be prevented, he pressed on due to something he had already learned about Gabriel just from working such a short time with him.

Gabriel was not much of a talker. This could be either because of so much work that still had to be done or because that was just how he naturally was. Regardless of the reason, Hiro realized that if he couldn't get Gabriel to talk about himself, to open up at all, then everything Hiro was doing as his employee was a waste of time.

At various times of the day, Hiro tried to engage conversation, but he was quickly shut up once Gabriel understood that what he wanted to talk about wasn't strictly work related. ("Focus on your duties, Anzai, and let me focus on mine.") Hiro managed to get a little bit of interest out of Gabriel when he mentioned his obsession with _manga––_or comics, as they were known here––both Japanese and American, but Gabriel all too quickly came to his senses and halted the conversation before it even began. ("I hardly think discussing heroes running around in spandex is really conducive to your work, Mr. Anzai.")

But Hiro was not the giving-up type. He's make headway eventually, especially if he got all of his work done in time.

_Time._ If only he could stop time, he could get all of this done before Gabriel's next blink. The thought was so tempting, Hiro almost stopped what he was doing to concentrate, but a sharp pang of fear ripping through him stopped him. It was too risky. What if he slipped up? What if he lost control and ended up teleporting somewhere randomly instead of stopping time? He risked enough getting himself and Claire where they needed to go, and his ability was nothing if not temperamental. If Gabriel discovered Hiro's ability, then who knows what the man would do? Fear it? Embrace it? Would witnessing it awaken his own dark gift? Perhaps even tempt him to steal it for himself?

There was no way Hiro could risk it now, not until he knew with absolute certainty that he was in control of his gift, instead of it controlling him.

So engrossed was Hiro in his mental war, dusting the front counter mindlessly, that he violently jumped at a sudden sound, knocking over the pen holder and sending a few pens and highlighters to the floor before he could catch all of them. His phone was ringing. Why was his phone ringing? He fished it out of his pocket, forgetting that he had it until now. And, really, it was ringing quite loudly. Which meant that if _he_ could hear it, then Gabriel––

"Having one's phone on in the middle of a job is quite unprofessional, Mr. Anzai."

––Probably could, too.

Hiro spun around to see Gabriel looking incredibly annoyed, and Hiro felt a sense of foreboding course through him. Because there was only one person who would be, who _could_ be, calling him right now; seeing the familiar number flash on the screen more than proof of that. But even as the phone kept ringing in his hand, he felt utterly helpless knowing that he _could not_ answer it.

His helplessness multiplied tenfold as Gabriel held out his hand, expecting Hiro to hand it over without question. And he did, because what could he do?

Hiro thought that Gabriel would simply confiscate it, but what he actually did Hiro would have never guessed even if the world were at stake.

Gabriel clicked the answer button, brought the phone up to his ear, but before he could get out a proper greeting, a female voice shrieked clearly through the receiver. "Hiro! I'm in trouble! I need your help, _now!_"

Gabriel shot a questioning look at the man in question, a look which Hiro tried to match with one of confusion even though his heart was pounding in alarm and he wanted nothing more than to go and help Claire. But he couldn't. He couldn't do anything. Not while he was Yukio Anzai.

"I'm afraid you have the wrong number, miss," Gabriel replied, and Hiro could almost imagine the look of fear that must have flitted across Claire's face if she recognized whose voice it was.

"O-oh." Even though the voice was much quieter and shaky, the silence of the store still allowed for both bespectacled men to hear her. "I-I'm sorry. My mistake. Um–good–goodbye!" And she hung up.

Gabriel removed the phone from his ear, surprisingly handing it back to Hiro. At his curious look, Gabriel elaborated. "Either turn it on silent or turn it off. I don't care which, just make sure I don't hear it again."

Hiro nodded, quickly putting it in silent mode. "Yes, sir."

As Gabriel walked away, Hiro stared down at his phone, completely torn. Claire sounded really freaked out, but he couldn't just leave here nor could he call her back.

But he could text her if he was careful enough; that was something he was willing to risk. So, always making sure his back was towards Gabriel, Hiro resumed dusting the front of the store with his left hand, taking care to text Claire with his right, wanting to find out as soon as he could what had happened to her.

* * *

"S'cuse me, sorry," Claire muttered, keeping her head down as she accidently bumped into a forth person as she traversed the New York streets. The blonde heard the stranger give an affronted grunt and maybe even sent a dirty look her way before he hurried on. She remembered hearing a saying once about New Yorkers from her dad: it's not that they were necessarily _rude_ people; it's just that most of them were very busy and in a hurry. Certainly, the City that Never Sleeps was living up to its namesake with Claire herself feeling her legs move faster seemingly of their own accord if just to keep up with the flow of bodies along the street. She wasn't sure where she was going, but with Hiro gone to work and no one but Angela and Arthur to keep her company, she had needed to get out.

She hoped Hiro was doing alright. Her phone hadn't so much as vibrated all day, so everything had to be going well, right?

Forced to stop at an intersection to wait for ongoing traffic, the cheerleader attempted to figure out exactly where she was. The green street signs gleaming everywhere didn't really mean much to her; Claire was more of a visual person. Still, she remembered enough about the surrounding area to know that Kirby Plaza was nearby…somewhere. She felt that she needed to go there, that she needed to see it again, whole and complete and peaceful, at least once before November 8th. Kirby Plaza was where she would gain some closure and, she hoped, some much needed perspective.

She never made it there, though.

Claire had taken a back alley, wanting to get away from the crowds of people walking the regular streets and to take a short cut. She felt no fear doing this as any regular female normally would; in fact, she paid no thought to what route she was taking at all, her mind consuming itself with other things. That's why when an arm suddenly wrapped around her neck, and she was shoved against the grimy, brick wall that she was so surprised she literally forgot to scream.

Forced to remain against the wall, she quickly studied the man before her. He was a white man, probably in his late thirties, wearing simple business attire, but what really surprised her the most was how normal looking he was. This wasn't a hardened criminal that had just attacked her, this wasn't a gang member or anything remotely like what television stereotypes had taught her to watch for. He was truly a normal citizen, that much was obvious, and that caused her breath to quicken and her body to shake much more than it would have without these facts. Because Brody had been a normal looking boy, too.

The man's arm was no longer around her throat, but she felt no relief because she could feel that cold, sharp steel had replaced it. She stared into the man's lean, rugged face, a hard look in his brown eyes and what she was shocked to find was that there was fear there also and, even more dangerous, desperation. He was breathing as heavily as she was, the hand holding the knife to her throat shaking.

"I don't want to hurt you, girl," he said, his voice not rough from drinking or smoking but was deep and husky from the breaths he was forcing through his lungs, "but I will if you don't do what I tell you. Just give me all the money you have on you nice and quiet like, and I'll let you walk away, no funny business."

Claire's heart dropped at that statement because she didn't have any money on her whatsoever; the only thing she had was her phone, and she knew that wouldn't satisfy this man at all. He was desperate for whatever private reasons that was, and Claire knew enough to know that when the desperate weren't assuaged, things quickly turned ugly.

"I know you probably need it more than me," Claire whispered, "and I would give it to you, but I just don't have any money with me."

They looked at each other searchingly, Claire hoping for him to regain his senses, him looking at this young girl for the truth. But truth does not speak to the desperate.

He rushed her, pinning her completely to the wall with the knife, cutting some of the skin, as his other hand searched her body frantically, looking for the one thing he had such a life-threatening shortage of. In the back of her mind, Claire knew that was all it was, but terror built up within her so strongly as his hand on her body became Brody's hands, as his fear-tinged breath against her skin became Brody's lust-filled pants, and suddenly she was struggling against him violently, the fear finally escaping her as she let it out in a bloodcurdling scream. She called for him to stop, for someone to help her, for Hiro, for her dad, but she knew that, like before, no one was coming.

And just as before with Brody, she and her captor lost their footing and fell to the ground. She scrambled out from under him, trying to run, to get them both out of this situation, but the man was on his feet and caught her wrist before she got too far. She saw his face again, lined with fatigue but eyes clouded with fear, and suddenly she knew why, because for all their struggling, she could hear footsteps running down the alley, footsteps that didn't belong to either of them, and a voice calling for the man to stop.

Claire jerked herself away from him, but his grip on her wrist was biting as he jerked her back towards him. She didn't know what he had planned on doing––keep her as a hostage against this well-meaning citizen, maybe––but whatever his idea was, it came to a quick halt as pain like fire needled and scorched from her midriff to her whole body. The man suddenly let her go, completely stunned, repeating "Ohmygod, ohmygod" over and over again.

The blonde dropped to one knee looking down to see that the man's knife was buried to the hilt in her stomach; when he had jerked her back she had, unknown to both of them, run herself through with it.

"HEY!" The voice from before cut towards them, and she watched as, almost in slow motion, the man took one look at her, regret in his eyes, and sped off in the opposite direction.

Claire was glad of that, hoping that if the man thought he had killed someone innocent, he would strive never to hurt anyone else again, that he would find a better solution to his problems than mugging. She was also hoping that the person currently running towards her would try and pursue her attacker. That way she could pull the knife out, heal, and go back to the Petrelli Mansion to forget this ever happened, but her luck was never so absolute.

The footsteps skid to a halt next to her, and she felt a hand gently grab her shoulder, shaking her.

"Miss, miss, can you hear me? Don't be afraid. I'm a nurse. I can help you."

And a cruel mixture of dread and happiness filled her as she looked up from her injury to stare up into the familiar face of Peter Petrelli.

* * *

**A/N: As always, thank you for your patience, and please review. :)**


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